


Blood Bound

by Jarakrisafis



Series: Isana [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Golems, Orzammar (Dragon Age), Orzammar Culture and Customs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-18 12:07:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 52,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21760645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jarakrisafis/pseuds/Jarakrisafis
Summary: Lyrium sings. He's always heard it. They couldn't believe until he melded steel and stone and magic. They didn't understand but they named him a Paragon.Caridin, born of House Ortan. Noble, Smith, Paragon.
Relationships: Caridin/Shale (Dragon Age)
Series: Isana [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1568344
Kudos: 3





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for body modification because Golems.  
> Also mature language/cursing and canon (darkspawn) appropriate violence.

Where exactly do you want me to start, one thousand years is a long time as you reckon it. As far back as I can remember? I suppose. And yes, as you reckon it, we're not the same as you any more are we? Or did you somehow miss the fact that we are no longer flesh? Time is... different for us. Days, weeks, months... We don't sleep or eat, what need have we to mark the passing of time?

So, from the beginning. Wait. Should I do an introduction?

Yes? Right, fine.

I suppose I should give it a catchy title, maybe: 'Memoirs by Master Smith Caridin pertaining to the formation and fate of the Legion of Steel from around 940TA to...', what date is it now? 9:31 Dragon? That's not entirely helpful, can anyone convert those into the same calendar? ...940TA is about minus 250 Ancient? You know what, work it out yourself and we can add the dates in later. Where were we? '...fate of the Legion of Steel from around 940TA to 9:31 Dragon.'

Do I need to add anything else? I've written notes and I kept a journal before but I've never written a book, is there anything that should go in the front that I've missed?

Wait, Warden, are you writing all of this down?

You are not leaving all that in Warden!

Fine. You know what, fine. Write this next line down exactly as I say it too:

Scribed verbatim because he's a sodding asshole by Warden Paragon Duran of House Aeducan.

Spoken by Paragon Caridin, first of his House.

Editor's notes.

I have attempted, using the best references I can find in the Orzammar Shaperate to align the timeline presented in this autobiography. However due to the differing calender in use then compared to now, and to the significant amount of time that has passed since the events, they are in places vague. A chronological order has been established and if one simply reads for the pleasure of reading rather than using this as a perfectly accurate historical account there will be no issues.

Paragon Caridin is a wealth of information that has been previously unknown, even to the Shapers. I have taken it upon myself to speak to some of the Steel Legion and they have corroborated large parts of his story, leading me to conclude that there were memories removed from the Orzammar Shaperate regarding this time period. I would conclude that the treachery inherent in Orzammar politics lead to this removal.

Warden Constable Duran Aeducan.


	2. Of Learning

The first memory I have that is clear is of a dark house. I talk not of light or the lack thereof, but of a sadness hanging in the air. My mother passed away in childbirth, my to-be sibling with her. She was not the heir to the house, nor even eldest amongst her siblings; my great uncle Darin held the title of Lord Ortan, and one of mother's brothers was his designated heir, what mother was however, was a well beloved daughter of the House. Enough so that my great uncle had acceded to a love match to my father, despite his lower caste. A mere smith to be wed to a noble house should have been a scandal to be talked about for years, instead I am told there were only well wishes given to them both.

Her loss was felt outside the house, an entire Thaig in mourning for her and one small child, especially one being of an age to entertain themself, but also too young to be of any help, was consequently forgotten in the goings on. I was perhaps four, five maybe, old enough to understand the concept of her being gone, but not old enough to see why that meant nobody had time for me any more.

My eldest sister, twelve years my senior and in the final stages of courting for a very good marriage contract, had no time for me. Her world revolved around the gossip and politics of the world she was marrying into. My brother, nine years older than I, was dedicating himself to the guard. With little chance of being declared heir of the house, the guard and army was a good way for a lesser noble son to advance.

My father was inconsolable and disappeared for days at a time, retreating to his smithing. I would assume the familiarity was what he sought for he was not a great smith, although that is not to say that he was unskilled. He'd clearly learnt enough before meeting mother to be considered a competent craftsman, if not one that stood out in any way. Or perhaps he was simply out of practice; my sisters birth had seen him elevated to Noble standing, something he had tolerated but never truly accepted. I suspect he would have been happier if their first born was a boy, thus pulling mother down to smith caste, for their contract stated that the first born would determine their standing. Thinking about that in hindsight I'd have been the only happy one, my sister and brother would both have hated being bound to the smith caste for life.

That said, I was, at that time, very young and the understanding of the situation was somewhat less clear. Uncle Darin was the first to find me. I think I might have been crying again, Ortan Thaig was very large for a small child with plenty of places to hide so it wasn't really a wonder I hadn't been found before then. And that was even supposing somebody was looking. 

He pulled me out from the shelving I'd taken refuge under and stared down at me with a strange expression. "You look far too like her." He had muttered as he grabbed one of my hands and led me out of the room. I'd trotted alongside him, wondering if he had been talking about mother, and if so, was it a problem that I looked like her. He'd seemed so sad when he said it. Anyway, I'd always been told that I follow Great Uncle Darin even above my parents direction because he is he one in charge of the House, so I didn't protest him hauling me off. Anyone else would have gotten an ear full of high pitched screaming. Kidnapping wasn't done that often, but it never hurt to teach a child to scream very loudly when someone not on the trusted list tries to haul them away.

"Here." I'd grabbed at the item thrust into my arms, then scrabbled for the second item he threw in my direction. I'm not stupid, yet it took me a while to work out that the white rock stick was for making marks onto the flat rock. Slate and chalk is a novel concept for one who has never had lessons before. And it turned out lessons were interesting. In a way, one could say that such a tumultuous event made me what I am. Uncle Darin was the only one making time for me and it paid off as I absorbed his lessons almost as fast as he could teach me. I think I was under the impression that if I did well he'd continue to pay attention. I think eventually he had a word with my father, as he came back to making some semblance of effort to look after me. He wasn't entirely there at first but it's the thought that counts.

After that my days were filled with learning the history of the Empire, and following father down to the forge district and watching him work in the corner he'd claimed for himself. That isn't to say that I didn't play and run around like any other child. I certainly did. Nothing was safe from my curiosity, not the great river barges that stopped by to ferry the wealth of the Thaig away to other places, not the animal pens where they bred the huge brontos and nugs, nor the bridges and houses that made up the Thaigs living quarter.

Despite the trouble I got into - there was one notable incident of almost ending up on a barge bound for Aeducan Thaig - it was still the smithing that drew my attention as I found the process entirely fascinating. There was something special about the heat and smoke and tang of metal that I couldn't explain at the time. A burgeoning sense of something settling in my very core that seemed to resonate with the clang of the hammers.

It was around that time that father decided he was moving to Orzammar. Ortan Thaig held too many memories for him that he wished to get away from. I, still being far under age, was to go with him. I think I was around eight years old. I remember little of the journey, the barge moved swiftly through the sometimes racing waters and other Thaigs and outposts passed swiftly by. We didn't stop much, the merchants that were ferrying us took care of everything with a grace that I found fascinating given the turbulent water we were sometimes in. The last part, on foot through vaulted corridors held too much for me to take in at once and I was still gaping around as we walked into the Commons of Orzammar.

House Ortan's estate just inside the Diamond Quarter was a small place to a child accustomed to the freedom of a large Thaig and I followed fathers example of relocating to the forge he had purchased. True enough he could have borrowed space in one of the forges beholden to our House, yet he was adamant he wanted his own workshop. It was a small place, wedged between a staircase down from the Commons and another larger forge. It was nothing special, and that I think was why father liked it. House Ortan continued to generously fund father and his projects. I think, privately, they were pleased when I appeared to be following father's path, I was one less son that they needed to deal with. Not that I particularly cared about that, not at that age, the intricacies of manoeuvring amongst the lines of caste and kin was of no importance. So it should be no surprise that I was focused only on the small forge and the freedom of the Forge Level of Orzammar, places that would come to dominate my young life.

It was, as I said, a small place, with a solid anvil fixed in the centre. Silverite, father said with pride in his eyes as I ran my hand over the top for the first time, faint divots and chips, most long smoothed over by the work of hammer and metal on them, met my questing fingers. The metal itself was cool, strange given how close it was to the lava that flowed around behind the back of the forges and gave them all heat. Father's tools, and there were lots, a whole wall full in fact, were close at hand; and it made me happy that I could name many of them. I hoped father would be pleased too, he was forever saying that I didn't pay enough attention to my lessons. That had always made me frown and a feeling that could be disappointment well up within my chest, for I tried my best. I had dutifully learnt my numbers and my letters, for as Uncle Darin had often said: "what Noble son would be illiterate?"

Having been told all my young life that our honour would reside in how well I performed my ascribed life I threw myself into learning smithing with a passion. I think some of my uncles from House Ortan were implying that my honour would be dependent upon how well I climbed up the social ladder and snagged a high ranking girl to further their house for them. I am not sorry that I must have disappointed them so. Instead to become a great smith was my goal. And if I hoped that eventually father might tell me that I was doing well, that I was for once exceeding his expectations, well, it was a good motivation. The first time I earned his praise I remember nearly destroying my next item by hammering a little hard upon the anvil, my happiness translating to not recalling that every day at the forge was increasing my strength and I had to remember to moderate my blows. Smithing is not, no matter what other castes may say, all about how hard you can hit metal. Most is in fact about how delicately you can hammer, how softly you can tease a shape out of nothing.

=====

I was a sheltered child for those first years, the worries of Orzammar were not my worries. I was nearly twelve before they intruded on my quiet life of learning. It was a day like any other. I'd woken, eaten and ran down to the forge. I had beaten father there, but that was not unusual and it was no hardship for me any more to start the fire and work the bellows. Though the effort still left me panting while father barely broke a sweat, he said I'd get there though, when I was bigger. I couldn't wait to be bigger at that point, if not for making set up easier, I would also be able to reach all the tools without having to drag a bucket round to stand on. I'd been about to start work on a knife - nothing fancy, just a common eating knife - when there were shouts from next door.

Now next door was a big place, they had more than one fire and anvils of different types and sizes and I was quite jealous of the youngsters my age who got to learn there, especially when they slacked off, taking such a wonderful place for granted. It was, I knew because father made sure I remembered just in case, under the patronage of House Cadash. Which should explain why it was so well funded, Cadash despite being a warrior house, are all but nobles in name. They hold their own Thaig and are in fact, the only house that isn't noble to do that. And I was curious; I'd never seen one of these fabled warriors before. Did they look any different? So it should be no surprise that I crept to the front of our forge and lowered myself so I'd be less likely to be noticed and cautiously peered around the door. My timing was terrible. My yelp as I was returned to the floor of my own forge was swallowed up by the shouting next door.

"Sorry?" There was a hand in front of my vision, or two hands... It took a moment before I was sure there was just the one before I took it, letting myself be hauled to my feet. A steadying hand braced me as I swayed a little and squinted at the dwarf I'd run into. Or they'd run into me. I wasn't quite sure any more. They were my size, with a helm a few sizes too large clasped in their arms, which explained how I'd come off worst in our collision. Metal was a lot harder than my skull. A face peered round the helm with what I thought was an apologetic expression. "Didn't mean to knock you down, I just didn't want to be around when father's yelling. He's all doom and gloom about the darkspawn" I grabbed at a stool and sat down, the girl - for she had no beard coming in that I could see and once the helm was lowered out of the way I could see the slighter figure - followed suit, grabbing one without asking and sitting herself down. I'd have protested, except fathers lessons on how to act around a lady did not involve tossing them back out a door. I had no right to tell her what to do, even in here, my own domain. That rankled a little, but I do have manners and I do remember them. The helm was dumped on the floor at her feet, her fathers no doubt, and she smiled at me. "I'm Shayle."

"Caridin." I replied, watching her carefully.

"Are you a smith?"

"I will be." I said with no small amount of pride. "I'm just learning now."

"I'm going to be a warrior." She puffed herself up as she said that and I couldn't contain my confusion.

"Aren't only men allowed to fight?" I asked.

She scowled. "I'll cut my hair and wear extra padding and I'll be better than them all." I couldn't argue with that so I nodded and she fairly beamed at me before hopping off her stool and giving me a hug. It was there and gone faster than I could process it and I stared as she broke away, looking round the forge with interest. "Every one else just tells me I'm being stupid, or it's a phase that I'll grow out of, but I know I won't." Her voice reminded me of myself, there was so much conviction in it that I just nodded again. Besides, who was I to tell her what she could or could not do? She drifted round, gently touching the completed armour hanging on the wall. "I'll need my own armour." She said, a note of wistfulness in her voice as she poked at a pair of gauntlets my father had been working on.

"Won't you have the big forge next door make it?" It was clearly the wrong thing to say for her face fell again.

"No. Father forbade them from making anything for me even if I ordered them to."

"Oh." I wasn't sure what else to say to that.

She shrugged lightly. "I'll save up every copper I can and get my own."

"Maybe I'll make some for you." I said before I could think about what I was saying, though it was worth it to see her face light up. "Though I'd have to learn how to make it before I can do that."

She grinned at me. "That's alright, I have to finish growing first."

"Shayle!" The moment was broken as Shayle scrambled towards the abandoned helm and shot out the door without even a backwards glance. I crept after her, peering out round the door frame and I couldn't help but wince as the dwarf that must be her father jammed his helm on his head and stomped off, one hand clasped round Shayle's wrist in what looked to be a bruising grip. It didn't stop her from looking back and her free hand gave me a small wave goodbye before she was pulled around a corner and out of sight.

"Caridin?" I jumped, I'd totally missed the sound of the other door opening and closing.

"Father." I said, as I tried to smooth out my tunic.

"Is there a problem?"

I shook my head. "Nah, there was just one of House Cadash next door, he was yelling a bit." I gave father what I hoped was a smile, now I wasn't focusing on not insulting my visitor I was starting to notice my head was throbbing a little. "Can I start to make armour soon?" It wasn't entirely a redirection of his attention, I did want to make armour. It's just father is very easy to direct and interest in smithing quickly has him forgetting anything else he might have been about to say.

=====

Armour, it turned out, was just as easy for me as the simple things father first taught me. The metal bent to my will as if I could hear it talking to me. The walls of father's forge were lined with several gauntlets, each one a little more refined, before Shayle returned.

I'll admit I was surprised, I hadn't actually expected to see her again, so I startled rather badly when I realised somebody had come close enough to be peering over my shoulder.

"Sorry." She said, a smirk on her lips that gave away just how not sorry she was. "What are you making?"

I lowered a hand to the metal, finding it still warm, but not enough to burn and handed it to her. Cool enough for me was obviously a little hot for her as she juggled it awkwardly for a moment and grabbed a rag to hold it with. I just smiled as sweetly as I could when she glared at me. Her annoyance didn't last long, she was entirely distracted by the armour she now held. She frowned, turning it over in her hands before working out what it was.

"It's a greave." She held it against her leg, twisting slightly to see how it looked. "It's even my size!"

I shrugged slightly. It had actually been sized for me, but I could let her believe that.

"All the boys have their own gauntlets and greaves." She said as she handed it back. "I just get handed gems and thread and fabrics. The only armour I get is the chain weave, but it's not made of good steel, it's always gold or silver".

"That'd make terrible armour." I pointed out.

"Yeah." She huffed, letting herself drop down onto a stool. "It's not meant to be armour. It's decoration for a pretty lady so I can catch the eye of a suitor." I'd never seen such a disgusted expression on anyone and it took all my willpower to not burst out into laughter right there and then.

I put the half finished greave down onto my anvil and wandered over to my wall of projects. It also let me hide my amusement until I'd schooled my face back into being a concerned... Friend? I didn't have much of a selection of completed works yet, I'd started with simple forearm bracers and only just moved onto greaves. I picked one of my first attempts, not because they were any better or worse, but because I'd made them a little too small for myself, they'd be a better fit on her slighter form. "Here." I thrust the roll of metal and leather at her.

She blinked, separating the two items from each other, her face lit up with a surprised smile as she held one up. "They're perfect. Are you sure?"

I nodded. "They're just taking up space, nobody will notice they're gone."

She pushed the sleeve of the baggy shirt she was wearing up her arm and put them on. I was pleased to see my guess was right, they did fit her well. With the sleeve tugged back down you couldn't even tell they were there. I was treated to another hug, this one lasting long enough I could wrap my arms back around her.

And that of course was when my father decided to return.

He coughed. We jumped apart as quickly as scalded nugs. He raised an eyebrow. Shayle bowed, which only caused the eyebrow to raise even further, before she slunk past him and made her escape.

"Do I want to know?"

"She's a friend." The eyebrow didn't move. "She's interested in armour making."

"Hmmm, good for you to have some more smith friends. Just make sure it remains at friends. Your Uncle would not be happy if you caused a scandal."

I do believe I blushed so red I could have heated my work. "Yes father."

Notice I didn't bother to correct his assumption of her caste.

As I said, father was very easy to direct.


	3. Of Smithing

I can't remember which visit it was, sometime around a year later, when Shayle convinced me to leave the forge and go out with her. "Just as friends," she'd hastily told me, hands up like a shield as she tried not to look too panicked when I'd raised an eyebrow at her and swept my gaze over her figure. I had to duck quickly once she realised I'd been teasing her. After all, it's not like she'd grumbled to me on nearly every visit about the boys her family kept suggesting she spend time with.

Please take note of the sarcasm there. If you didn't, let me spell it out. There was lots of grumbling. While i like to pretend Im refined enough to not need them, my soldiers array of curses are mainly due to Shayle's extensive vocabulary. I was clearly better company than those boys because I shared just as little interest in her as she did in being pretty. That is to say, very little indeed. And before anyone else reading this thinks it. No, males held just as little interest for me.

I digress though. The night out. It started, as most night outs do, by a group of youngsters meeting up. Mostly guard recruits, that may, thinking about it in hindsight, be why it ended quite so badly, and a few crafters. I was the only Noble present, not that I was showing it, I was just wearing my smith badge which showed my current advancement as a Junior Apprentice. Given that there's a usual level one reaches as one grows up, the rank markers from Novice to Apprentice were a pretty easy way for the bartenders and servers to know who is old enough to drink. Or possibly old enough to drink. 

We went to a small place in the Commons; it's not there any more, apparently Orzammar has shrunk, and what was all Commons back when I was young is now split between Commons and Dust Town. Strange to see how it has shrunk, it was always huge, or perhaps I was just smaller and it only seemed bigger. I'm getting distracted again. It wasn't a very nice bar, it was in the Commons after all and the owner of the tavern was a huge fellow who could drop a dwarf at fifty paces with whatever came to hand. I heard at least one guard captain lamenting that he was merchant caste and the lost opportunities therein. Being where it was however, did mean that there were no complaints over ones caste. The taverns in the Diamond quarter tended to get snooty when anyone other than a Noble walked in, and we didn't feel like putting up with several hours of huffing and grumbling just because so many of the group dared to have been born as warriors or crafters.

I will take this moment to state unequivocally that we were just minding our own business. We got drinks, took over a corner and started chattering.

I was discussing armour with Shayle, a cousin of hers and another friend. Despite females not being allowed to fight, the discussion of how to adapt plate torso armour to fit a feminine figure, while still allowing the same range of motions and protection was becoming quite heated. The poor slate we'd absconded with from the bar was becoming quite full of overlapping sketches. Our tab was long since written over. I think the two of them had a pretty good idea why Shayle was wanting an answer, and I was pleased to see that neither of them seemed adverse to implementing it. Or at least, turning a blind eye while I implemented it.

"This bit here, it needs a joint higher up." Sharis said as he shaded in a segment at the waist. "Shayle, uhhh, females, would need to bend more if they were fighting, they're more flexible than us."

"So why not just forgo the plating on that section entirely and just do a scale band?" Rico said with a frustrated huff.

"Because that'd be a weak point compared to the heavy plating up top."

"Except if they're as flexible as you're saying they shouldn't be there to take the blows."

I tilted my head across the two of them and Shayle just shrugged back, clearly content to let them argue.

"Yes, but what if say, a bow is turned their way? An arrow isn't something you can see coming unless you're very lucky."

"Yes, but if you can't do that in plate you need something else."

No. Wait. I can't just listen to that without correcting them. "You are aware that I can make armour that flexes to allow for bending. You just have to layer the metal correctly so it can slide over itself."

There's silence as both turn to look at me. I can track the moment they both realise they're arguing about armour in front of an armoursmith as the slate is gently pushed in front of me.

I use my sleeve to buff off most of the chalk and start drawing. All three heads bend down to ask for modifications to the design as I go. It gains the attention of more of our group and there's soon more chairs being dragged closer and several people leaning over my shoulder to see. We're nearly done with a fairly elaborate design that I am proud to say, is quite beautiful. Clearly made for a female figure if you know where to look, but entirely practical, none of the gaudy shapes that are used in the jewellry armour that's all the fashion right now. It almost makes me cry to have to make 'armour' in gold or silver. But that's what my sister wants at the moment. So she can blend in with her darling spouse when he's wearing his ceremonial shiny armour.

"What's this then?"

"What does it look like?" I replied. At this point, I hadn't looked up, I was still adjusting one of the greaves that Shayle was describing to me, so how could I have any idea who I'm talking to?

"What would a woman know about armour?" The slate is swiped from beneath my hand and that doesn't just get me to look up, but my chair scrapes backwards as I surge to my feet. There's a lot of detail on that slate I don't want to lose.

"More than you apparently." I said disdainfully. Who thought using veridium for his armour was a good idea? And in that design? The green sheen clashes horribly with his hair and beard and the shaping is doing him no favours.

"Do you have any idea who I am?"

I tilted my head slightly. "Not a clue." I could see him pull himself up, shoulders back, chest out and I continued before he could start with what I expect is some self important introduction. "And, quite frankly, I don't give a nugs arse. Give me the slate back and piss off"

He spluttered. Mouth moving soundlessly for a long moment before he slammed the slate down so hard I'm surprised it stayed in one piece. I don't think he was used to having anyone talk back to him.

"You dare crafter! I can ruin you and your family."

"Go ahead, I think you'll find it a little harder than you think." Okay, so I was baiting him. But he deserved it. We didn't ask him to come over and interrupt us. "My sister could deal with you without lifting a finger."

"Ha." He scoffed. "Like some pox ridden wench could manage that."

Alright. Fine. I threw the first punch.

It may also have been the only one I got in if I'm entirely honest. Do I have to say again that I am a Noble who has smithing as a large hobby. I'm not a warrior. Needless to say it devolved into a brawl of epic proportions. He was, like I, also with friends. And what do two groups of young dwarves do when faced with somebody throwing a punch? I'll clue you in, run away is not the answer.

I think we might have been winning. I'll never actually know because I had just enough time to see an object flying towards me, one annoyed bar owner behind it with arm still outstretched, and recognise that it was a tankard so I should probably duck.

I didn't duck.

=======

"Brother."

"Urgh."

The sound of a foot tapping echoed round the room and I peeled open one eye to squint through the blessedly dimly lit room. Why is my sister in my room? Oh, yeah, no. I do recall being told she was on her way to Orzammar from her husbands Thaig. Next question, how did I get back here? I'm sure I was out last night.

"Why exactly does my husband want to have you thrown out of Orzammar?"

"The fuck would I know?" I found a pitcher of water beside the bed and took a few grateful sips as I hauled myself up to lean against the wall. Ow. I felt like a herd of brontos had just trampled over my body. And my hand had dried blood on it. I distinctly recall that small fact. "I've never even met your husband."

Her arms crossed as she glared at me. The arms crossing is the second sign. Coming after the foot tapping. I preferred not to reach the third sign. Things tend to start being thrown at me. "You have. Last night."

I did?

I would like to say that I'm quick on the uptake. Unfortunately that'd be a lie, it took a moment. A very long moment.

"He wouldn't happen to have a set of hideous veridium armour would he?" I asked, a sudden premonition settling somewhere in my gut.

"Yes." She frowned. "No." A growl. "Yes he has veridium armour, no it isn't hideous."

"It clashes with his beard." I say and grin at the visible twitch that gains. "He called you a pox ridden wench."

"You broke his nose!"

"I was defending your honour!" I crossed my arms, well aware that it's a rather petulant thing to do. I'm not going to be made into the guilty party here, it's not my fault she married an asshole. Also, he was insulting his own wife. I couldn't help the snicker that escaped.

She threw her arms in the air and whirled around, stalking through the door with an almost visible aura of insulted frustration. The door slammed shut behind her with enough of a bang that I could see the wood wobbling. Good thing nobody else from the family was around to see that or we'd have be treated to the 'wood is a precious commodity' lecture. Again.

I hauled myself out of bed, grimacing as my gut decided whether it does in fact want to stay where it belongs or make a hasty exit, and stumbled towards the door once it made its mind up.

"Not. A. Word." Carisa's shout wasn't muted by much. "You are just as much at fault."

"I di'n know I' was you."

"Men!" Another door slammed and I winced. The next shout is much muted, apparently two wooden doors actually start to have an effect. "And don't leave until you've apologised to each other."

I opened the door as quietly as I could. Not quietly enough as I stare at her husband when he whirled round to face me. Yup, that was a broken nose alright. No wonder my knuckles were bruised.

"I don't suppose you can just agree that we spoke and said sorry?" The glare I'm treated to would be more intimidating if he didn't have two black eyes above the newly rearranged nose. "I'll guess that's a no then." I limped my way over to one of the seats and settle down. Slowly settled down. I think I must have hit my hip on the way down to meet the floor.

"You're an arrogan' litt'e sod." He said as he let himself drop down onto a chair. I did do him the favour of not laughing at the slightly nasally tone he's acquired while things heal.

"And you're a rude asshole." I smiled at him. "Names Caridin, scion of house Ortan. I enjoy smithing as a hobby and dislike politics. I love my sister and I absolutely refuse to apologise for defending her. I do apologise for breaking your nose, I didn't know I could hit that hard."

I could hear the audible growl from across the space between us. "Valtor, Heir of House Meino. I very much enjoy pol'tics and I love m' wife. I s'pose I'll 'pologise f'r not checkin' your caste."

"Excellent, we're all introduced and we said sorry, she'll be so happy with us."

He scoffs, clearly less than impressed. "Whatever. Stay out of my way and we'll get along just fine."

I hauled myself up, limping towards the door while trying not to show how much it hurt. "Not a problem, unless you plan to get some better armour made. I'll give you some advice - not veridium." I let myself out before he could find an answer.

"Your husband is charming, so glad to have met him." I said as I went past Carisa. "Hello Uncle, I'll be showing myself out."

"Caridin."

Well bollocks.

"Yes Uncle?"

Carid crooked a finger in my direction and that's all it took for my shoulders to droop as I changed direction. I ignored the smirk on Carisa's face and waggled my fingers at her in a farewell before the door of the office was shut with a solid thump. At least this one couldn't be heard through, being stone and all.

"Sit." I eased myself onto one of the stone chairs and waited as Carid settles behind the desk. "You are nearly fourteen."

I nod. Not entirely sure where this is going. There's a trap in that statement somewhere.

"Old enough that I'll be starting to look for a wife for you."

I splutter. "No."

Okay, so that's where this conversation is going. I suppose I should be glad that Great Uncle Darin is back at our Thaig. I couldn't begin to imagine having this particular discussion with him. Not that Uncle Carid is much better, he was mothers oldest brother so it was still a little awkward. However he was the heir to House Ortan so he spoke for Darin in all things... including contracts. 

"No? You prefer men then? Not a problem, we have enough members of the house that children needn't be a requirement."

"No!"

"Caridin. You have a duty to your house. We started looking for Carisa this early, and it took nearly two years to find a good match."

"If that's a good match I'm worried about what else you can come up with." I muttered as I tried to sort my thoughts out. "I'm learning to be a smith and marriage now would be rather inconvenient." Just looking for a match involved so much time. There's meetings and negotiations and who knows what else.

He hummed thoughtfully. "Two years then. At sixteen we will revisit this. it might be a little later than most, however I have been told you show promise in your craft and there will be families that don't mind an older match if you have talent."

"I, thank you." I doubted I'd get much more out of him, two years is actually more than I should have expected.

"Oh, and Caridin. If you would comport yourself as an upstanding member of our house and remove yourself from the sphere of influence of those with a more disruptive presence, I would be most grateful." I allowed myself to be waved out of his office with a huff of displeasure. I could just bet he was talking about my friends from House Cadash there.

I hated castes and politics then and I still hate them now.

==========

"You look like a bronto tried to mate with you."

"Yes Shayle, I'm fine. Bit sore but nothing broken. Thank you for asking." I replied as she swung down off the railings she'd been balancing on and dropped into place beside me, hands hooked nonchalantly into her belt.

She cackled. "So? You in any trouble?"

"Did you know my sister married a member of House Meino?" I asked instead of answering her question. I mean, I had clearly known that. I just hadn't seen him before because they held the ceremony in Meino Thaig and I was about five at the time so I hadn't gone.

"Why would I know that?" She tilted her head a little in confusion.

"No reason." I said with a smile as we turned down one of the main staircases towards the forges. "Do you know the heraldry of House Meino?"

"Sure, it's a double-headed axe over a split field. She reeled off the answer without a pause - I've yet to catch her out with heraldry - before she made the connection. "Wait, wasn't the bastard who's nose you broke wearing that?"

"Mmmmmm." 

"Oh you didn't?"

I ignore her.

She collapsed against the wall, apparently something in my expression was enough to confirm things, or perhaps it was my lack of response that did it. I left her there, clutching at the bannister rail as if it's a lifeline down a long shaft while I went on ahead. She'd catch up when she's finished.

"That's just marvellous." She said as she staggered through the door, still chortling.

"If you're quite done, you can work the bellows." The occasional giggle still slipped out but I ignored them with the ease of long association. Free labour to work the bellows should not be turned away, no matter it's state.

Actually. I'll clarify that right now. Inebriated help should be escorted out and dropped in a gutter until it sobers up. I can say with hindsight that a drunken bellow helper will be more of a hindrance.

"So, what are you doing?" She asked as I let my hands hover over several different sheets of metal I've already refined and thinned out a little so they would be ready when my mood is caught by something. There's nothing like getting an idea on something to try only to find you need to do several hours of boring prep work first.

"Helmet." I said as I buried the red iron into the warming coals. The already red sheen takes on a slowly darkening hue as it heats and I hummed as I waited for the moment it would start to shift to a brighter orange glow. It didn't take long, despite father's forge being tiny, it's still in a prime spot by the lava and the coal heats quickly. The steady ringing tap of my hammer was soothing, letting me sort through my whirling thoughts.

Shayle has borrowed one of the swords from the wall and is doing some strange contortions with it. She calls them a dance, so your body remembers what it's meant to be doing even when you're tired. I think it looks ridiculous and no matter how long I stared I never did manage to see the pattern that she swore was right there.

"Caridin."

"Bother." I huffed as I hastily turned the metal over and hammered the slight dent back out. No matter how many times she stayed I always managed to forget she's there. It's weird, most people in my forge, father's forge that is, made every hair I have stand up on end and I can't work on anything knowing they're watching me.

"Are you going to put yourself forwards for the testing?"

My first thought was a quick, sharp denial. It didn't manage to leave my tongue as she stared at me and all I could see was expectation that I would be. "I'm not ready." I said, as I shoved the domed metal back into the coals with a little more force than it likely warranted. I could see the flaws in the pieces I'd made and every one made me want to put them back into the forge fire and melt them back down. I'm especially glad she outgrew those old bracers, the next set I made were far superior. I can't expect to pass from Junior to Senior Apprentice if I can't remove the flaws that are clearly visible to any Masters eyes.

"You're better than some of the senior apprentices in there." She jerked her thumb at the wall that separated fathers place from her House's forge.

I scoffed. "Not my fault they're all idiots."

She let out a deep sigh, it's one I recognised immediately, it meant something along the lines of: 'you're being an idiot Caridin and I can't believe I have to explain this.' "So. If they're all idiots and passed the testing, surely you can."

Okay, so I hadn't actually thought about it like that. "That... Is a good point."

She twirled the sword, staring at the blade as she laid down her next trap. "And you'll be able to procure enchanting stuff with a senior band."

Now that just wasn't fair. "You fight dirty." I muttered. I never should have confided in her that I'd like to try enchanting.

She smiled sweetly and went back to her dancing.

I signed my name on the testing board later that evening.

=====

The week between signing up and actually being tested was quite long. I'm quite sure they were marking the hours wrong because time seemed to pass so slowly.

I'll admit I was nervous, especially when I was called before the panel of Masters to answer questions. I do believe they were equally surprised by my age and caste. I was younger, by at least a year, than any of the other candidates. And they were all born Smith caste. I suppose it is rare that a Noble go to the trouble of actually getting a ranking, after all, it's not as if I really needed it to survive. I wasn't going to need to procure a patronage that would depend upon getting good recommendations. Being Noble was good for some things.

After the first questions any nerves were burnt away by the glee I found in having somebody ask me about the metals I'd been playing with for the past years. Nobody in my house ever cared except father. The rest just shook their head at me when I trooped in covered in coal dust and stinking of sweat and fire. Personally I saw no difference between that and my brother trooping in stinking of sweat and oil from the warriors practice arena. But apparently fighting was considered a better hobby. No matter that without the smith's they'd be fighting with stone axes.

All in all, the questioning was far easier than I anticipated and I wasn't surprised to be among those hustled into a forge with lots of small walled off stations set up. Each contained a solid chest, several sheets of metal, tools and a large slate. We would have one week to finish a full set of armour. Food would be provided. As were cots, and if we slept, the armour, in whatever state it was in was to be put into the chest and the key kept on our person so nobody could interfere with it.

I took my time to plan out what I intended to make. There didn't seem to be enough metal to make a set of full heavy armour and creating only part of a set would be ridiculous. So a lighter set it was to be. I toyed with the thought of doing something for a knife fighter before settling for a bow user. They were rarer to find in the armies, so I figured that showing I could craft something more unusual had to count for a little more.

I finished with a full day to spare. Not so the majority of the room, and I cheerfully tuned out the tired cursing of idiots trying to finish things that should have been done yesterday. I spent my time embossing the edges of the plates with decorative edging and inlaying copper to make it look better. By the time the call to stop came my armour was locked in its box and I was enjoying the nug and mushroom stew that had been provided. I handed the key over with a grin, ignoring the raised eyebrow of the master who had to come find me when I wasn't in the place they expected me to be.

"Finished did you?" He asked, clearly taking in my - I suppose I wouldn't go as far as to say well rested, but I wasn't falling asleep in my stew - state.

"Aye, I ran out of space to decorate about a candlemark ago."

The eyebrow lifted back up and he made a sound that could have been anything from congratulations to disbelief. I just tucked back into my stew, smiling cheerfully as the rest trooped in to gratefully inhale their food and try not to pass out at the table.

The last part of the testing was the bit I hadn't been able to get much information on. Most masters wouldn't speak of it, and father hadn't gone past Junior Apprentice before he married mother. His skills may have improved since then but he never took the tests himself so he was little help.

I had been doodling on the table with a spare bit of chalk when my name was finally called. Those that were called first hadn't returned and our numbers were slowly dwindling. I was glad not to be last, I'd have run out of chalk. Or table.

I was not fond of the blindfold that was settled over my eyes, it's rough and itchy and I don't like not being able to see where I'm going. "Run me into anything and I won't be happy." I muttered sullenly and my guide chuckled.

He did not run me into anything, for we didn't go far, just into the next room. I'd seen the door before I was rendered blind.

"You are to tell us what this is." Something was pressed into my hands and I grasped it when the weight began to drop when the owner of the unknown voice let it go.

"Stone. With..." I tilted my head, listening. "Peridot."

"And this?" The first item was removed and another, much smaller than the first, was pressed into my palm.

"Ruby." I didn't need to think about that, it's a clear and shining hum between my fingers. The hum shifts as I turn it over and I pulled back from holding it out to listen more carefully. "Flawed Ruby." I amended and hold it back out.

It's exchanged again, for items that I can easily recognise. Steel. Red Iron that's so brittle I wouldn't use it as scrap. Obsidian. Silverite. Gold. Veridium. I'd used them all in the forge at some point.

Then there's a new thing I'd never felt before. I turned it over in my hands, metal cold to touch yet it seems to speak of heat and age. "Volcanic Aurum?" It's the only thing I could think of that I'd never felt before. It was too rare for father to have even a scrap for me to look at.

"Tell us what this does." There's leather in my hands and the shape made it clear it was a blade. "I'd wager it cuts things." I muttered as I find the handle. There's several quickly muted snickers from around the room and I can't help but grin at my invisible testers. I'm sure it was wiped off my face quickly enough as I unsheathed the blade.

I was unable to breath, the air around me is ice in my lungs. How can something so cold burn? The ever present background hum of lyrium is a song, a roaring crescendo in my head. Brittle and piercing. The underfoot crunch of ice gathering in the deep tunnels and the sharp edge of shadowed ice that forms on the edge of passageways that you don't see till you're blood is coating it.

"Ice." The blade clattered onto the ground and I stepped backwards, away from the song that's still there, still prodding at my mind.

There's silence around me, a startled absence of sound before swift steps and a swish of cloth swept the blade away and then the sound of leather sliding over metal. The room warmed back up. That let me ease my shoulders; I hadn't realised I'd settled myself to run.

"He didn't even touch the runes!" I'm sure that was meant to be quieter than it was for there's a soft hushing sound following it. I turned my head a little, in the direction of the speaker, hoping he'll ignore the hush and say something else. I don't understand that comment, why would I have needed to touch the runes, it wasn't as if the enchanting was a subtle thing.

"And this?"

I was a lot more wary with this one, easing it out from it's scabbard nice and slowly.. I needn't have worried, the song is quieter, a cheerful resonance that I let roll over me as it left the faint scent/feel of a smokey fire happily burning away in a corner caressing my mind. I smiled. I liked that one. "Fire." I said, letting my fingers run over the blade, feeling the runes. The symbols etched into it were clear, in fact, I almost didn't need to be touching them to see their shape. They hummed and sizzled with the feel of lyrium, their makers intent bound into the blade. There's no intent to burn here, not like the ice which was like a deepstalker on a hunt. In fact it's almost the opposite feeling. "Wouldn't this be better on armour?"

"Why would you say that?"

I shrugged. "It feels protective." I wasn't sure how else to describe it to them. I'd never held enchanted items like this. I know some of my house had them, but it's not done to ask for an elders weapon. Especially just so I could fulfil my curiosity. And Father doesn't work with lyrium, he said he didn't have the skills for it. I pity him at that moment, if that means he couldn't feel what I was.

"Oh." I said as I finished tracing the runes. "So that's how it's done." They're all interconnected, the end of the first is the beginning of the next, a sequence that guides the enchantment. "Fire-Protection-Health." I said, tapping each rune as I spoke. I could make something like that if I had lyrium, it's so logical, so easy. In fact, I could change it, give the blade more power, more bite; change that sleepy smokey voice in my mind to a raging inferno that hungers. I could make it like the ice bound blade they gave me first.

What else could I make with this?

Armour that flickers with visible magic, fire, ice, lightning. Blades of every kind, I can see them all on a vast wall, arrayed ready to use. Each one a masterwork. And an anvil, a huge thing, greater than any I've seen before that flickers with blue light, that sings in my mind as I long to reach out and trace my fingers over the lyrium that has been worked into it. And a giant warrior with lyrium bright eyes stares at me. A hand raises, fingers twisting to gesture me closer. Closer and closer until the unblinking eyes are all that seem to fill my vision.

I shook my head, bringing myself back to the present as the blade is taken from me.

"Last item." Metal clangs against the floor and I crouched down, letting my hand brush over it.

I frowned, for there was nothing there. No song, no hum. Nothing. There's always something, the complete lack is unnatural. It's a torso set, front and back. Heavy plate. Plain and unadorned. Is this a trick? Is that the answer - that it's not enchanted? I almost said so, yet there was something... I couldn't even tell what metal it was. I tried inside and smiled as my fingers brushed over runes on the inside collar of the chest plate. I could suddenly feel the snap and crackle of the lyrium as if something had been brushed aside in my mind.

I laughed. It was a trick. Of a sort.

"Deflection."

"Very good. You may remove the blindfold. You will go through the next doors and await our judgement."

I pulled the blindfold off and handed it over before bowing and heading for the indicated door. That was fun. I need some lyrium now though. I have so many ideas for what to try that I'm not sure which I want to do first.

"How did it go?" I was asked as soon as the door has swung shut.

"Fantastic." I replied as I collapsed onto a bench amongst those who had gone before me.

"Is that sarcasm?" Somebody asked.

"No." I pulled myself up. "I never knew enchanted items felt like that."

"Yeah, so what did you think?" There's challenge in that voice and I glared back at the older dwarf who is looking down at me with the air of one who thinks he's far superior.

"Ice attack, fire defense and missile deflection." I said, in a bored tone, letting one eyebrow raise. Challenge accepted. And won. Asshole.

"Ha. See Garat, I'm not the only one to think the second and third items were both tricks."

"More like you and the kid were looking into it too much. Fire runes on a blade aren't going to be defensive. And the last one was empty."

"Did you think to check the inside of the armour? And the blade, could it have been made specifically for our testing." I said with a bright smile. That startled a laugh out of several of them and a sour look from Garat.

"Whatever. I still think you're full of nugshit." He said and turned away.

I settled back when it became clear there would be no more conversation from that quarter, not even a good argument. I could use the time to consider what to try first. Having thought about it as a few more hopefuls came out of the door I realised I may need to work out how to convince my Uncle that the house should get me some refined lyrium dust to experiment with. I knew it was expensive stuff, but I'd have to start somewhere.

The end of the testing was entirely anti-climatic. I expected more than a bulky folded piece of parchment being held out and I'm left holding it with a bemused expression. Around me I can see others opening their own with expressions that range from eager to trepidation. I unfold the paper, not realising I hadn't taken a breath until I saw the band of woven material and I smiled at the badge stitched into it. I passed.

I would like to make it clear here, having spoken to several different dwarves regarding this point that history seems to be often confused about this, I was not the youngest to ever pass those tests, just younger than average.

I made sure I gave Garat a smug smile as I change my rank marker over and I swore I could hear his teeth grind as he burnt the paper in one of the sconces. I do believe he didn't pass.

I was accosted before I made it more than three strides into our estate, everyone babbling at me once I'd been pulled around so they can get a good look at my upper arm. "Yes. Thank you. I appreciate you want to congratulate me. I'm going to go pass out for a while." My glare was entirely spoilt by the yawn that I couldn't suppress. They do let me stumble away to my bed chamber though, albeit with several more well meaning slaps to my back. I could even swear I saw Uncle Carid nod at me before I left the entryway.


	4. Of Magic

When I next opened my bedroom door it was to find the house quiet, the fires burnt low and only a few of the sconces lit. I must have slept for longer than I expected. "What time is it?" I asked as I pulled on another robe to help ward off the chill in the air.

"Just past the third mark." The servant who's cleaning the lintel in the main room that my bed chamber adjoins answered quietly, voice hesitent. I could see her relax when all I did is pad past her on bare feet. "May I have permission to enter and clean your room?" She asked.

"Go ahead. I'm not heading back to bed." Three hours past the midnight bell is a ridiculous time to be awake. I nearly fell over another servant sweeping the floor and I just gave him a bemused look as he tried to apologise. "Did we get more servants?" I murmered, not really expecting an answer. I never remembered seeing that many around.

Yes, okay, I was that dense. Why would it have ever occurred to me that a large portion of the servant caste work during the night hours when we lordlings are sleeping and out of their way.

My wandering feet took me all the way from the estate to fathers forge. I'm glad it was the night hours when I realised I was standing there with only a thin bedrobe over my sleep tunic and undergarments. No wonder the night-guard had given me such a strange look when I passed him by.

The hum of lyrium and metals surround me as I sit down in the corner, my slate still there with the last design I was working on. I'd never stopped and thought about the background hum. It'd always been there. It had just faded into the background until I didn't even notice it any more. Lyrium is everywhere in small amounts, laced into the walls, into jewellry, even the warehouses that supply the surface world have never been more than something that is simply there. I could probably walk the paths of Orzammar with my eyes closed. I glanced down at the slate, adding a few runes to the blade I had been working on. That would make it much better.

I just needed lyrium.

"Caridin?"

I jumped, chalk spilling onto the floor. "Father?"

"I was informed you were here." He said, as he settled down beside me, and I can see he looked like he's been woken up from a deep sleep. He holds out a pair of my trousers and boots and I couldn't help the laugh that escaped me.

"Night-guard?" I asked as I put them on.

"Aye." He patted my arm once I'm settled again. "So what has you down here at this time of the night?"

I shrugged, idly drawing out a different rune set that might work. "I slept for long enough. Couldn't stop thinking. I need lyrium."

"Son." I could hear the wary undertone in just the single word and I had to think about what I said before I realised what he was worried about.

"Processed Liquid and Powder. For enchanting." I clarified quickly. I'd never be so crass or stupid as to resort to taking lyrium in any form. Even in the smallest doses it changes the user.

"Enchanting?" He asked, eyes drawn to my doodling and I can see him squinting as he worked through the designs. "Are you sure about that Caridin?" Of course he's worried. It's not an easy subject to study. Recognising an enchanted piece is part of being a smith, but it takes a Mastersmith to repair such items and a dedicated Enchanting Master to create them. Enchanting has a rather high fatality rate. Backlash can come in many forms from incorrectly scribed runes, and that's not counting the accidents with the lyrium.

"I'm sure."

He sighed. Nodded. "I'll see what I can do." He patted me on the arm and pushed himself to his feet. "Now, how about you come back and get decently attired before you have to walk back in your nighttunic through the market throngs in the commons."

That sounded like an eminently sensible plan.

See. I do occasionally recognise a good plan.

=====

Lyrium is both a joy to work with, and a curse.

The power, the sheer joy it has in its pure form, and the way I could change that, shape it into anything I want. It's beautiful. I made my first blade as soon as father procured me lyrium. From then it was a case of trying to stop me. Every type of weapon you can imagine was tested.

There was even an eating knife imbued with fire runes somewhere. Sharis bet I couldn't add runes to something that small. I said I could, it'd be easy. We proved the old saying: 'that just because one can, one shouldn't' to be quite good advice. There's a reason why enchanted eating knives are a bad plan. Setting fire to your food is amusing, not helpful. It still got pulled out as a prank item by them every so often.

After that I started to run out of materials and turned to enchanting all my previously made blades.

Which is what led me to my thoughts that lyrium is also a curse.

"You gotta admit, that's fucking impressive." Sharis said with a suitable amount of awe in his voice, drawing my attention back to the current predicament I found myself in.

"Sodding right." Shayle added, her own eyes wide as she looked round at my handiwork.

"I mean, you managed to remove it entirely." Sharis said as he patted Shayle on her shoulder. I think it was meant to be reassuring but I could see his hand shaking. "And get some clear across the walkway."

"If you'd given it a bit more power I'm sure they'd be finding bits in the Commons."

"Oh give it a rest." I muttered as I prodded at a stone with one foot. It used to be part of the ceiling. Used to be. Which is an apt term to describe the fact that fathers forge no longer has a roof. Or the majority of the front wall either. And the anvil is embedded in the side wall. I'm just lucky it went into that wall as it's solid rock, if it'd gone the other way I'd have had more than just a convenient window into the next door forge. A broken wall is bad enough, House Cadash would have been even less impressed to have a high speed anvil smashing through one of their forges.

The crowd that had gathered to watch and point is being ushered on by a trio of rather weary looking guards and if not for the fact that I'd just blown my forge up, I'd feel rather sorry for the extra work I'd just piled onto their shift.

"Do we know how many might have been in there?" One of them asked.

"Three." Shayle said cheerily.

"We'll need to be notifying their houses then."

"Caridin, Noble house Ortan, Shayle and Sharis, Warrior house Cadash." I said promptly. "I presume you'll be wanting money from me to pay for the clear up?" Which would suck bronto balls. I'd been saving the money from the small commissions I'd been doing for the past months to get some better metal than the easily available stuff.

"Ah." The guard gave me a startled look as his eyes flickered over my house badge and rank marker. "Until you spoke I was planning on going to tell your house of your deaths."

"Eh, I felt the flaw form in the metal, wasn't hard to know when to run." I probably should have guessed that some of my early work wouldn't hold up to being enchanted.

"And if the Smith curses then starts running you do your best to keep up." Sharis added.

The guard shook his head, a rough chuckle escaping him. "I can see the logic behind that plan, aye." He gave us a nudge away from the scene of destruction. "Why don't you all go have a bath and find some new clothes, we'll send somebody round to your house later with the damages."

I couldn't deny that was a decent plan. "Thank you." I said before starting to pick my way over loose stone.

"Stop off at your place to grab new clothing, then head down to the public baths?" Shayle asked as she gave me a hand over when something shifted underfoot.

"Why not." I replied, it's not as if they'd be allowed in my House's baths. Uncle would throw a fit at the thought of having Warrior caste that aren't beholden to the house inside the estate.

The Commons is nice and empty today - possibly due to an explosion in the smith level, not that we would know anything about that - and the guard at the entrance to the Diamond Quarter, one of the regulars who is used to me heading home covered in soot, took one look at me and snorted. I replicate one of the rude gestures I'd seen Shayle use. He just laughed even harder.

"Good morning uncle, father, uncle, uncle, aunt." I nodded to the appropriate family members who all stared as I walked through the greeting room but said nothing beyond some tutting and head shaking at my state of attire. Even they were becoming immune to me looking like this. I gathered some clean clothes and threw them into a bag before looping it over my shoulder. "By the way father." I said as I passed through again on the way out. "We're going to need a new forge." I let the door swing shut before I could hear an answer.

For the second time that day I gathered myself and ran. If I could get far enough away I could escape the worst of the fallout. Shayle and Sharis proved themselves as good friends as they didn't stop to question me. It is depressing that neither of them were even breathing hard by the time I slowed to a stop while trying to get enough air into my lungs that I didn't keel over.

=====

"So." Sharis said once we're settled in the pool. "Do you think you could do that again on purpose?"

Could I manage to do what, create a flaw in veridium that would give way right underneath an embossed fire rune while I was filling it with liquid lyrium? The amount of things that would need to line up correctly for that to happen again and in the way it did would be higher than the chances of me being declared a paragon. "No."

"It's just, I was thinking..."

"Absolutely not." Shayle cut in. "You'd blow yourself up."

"I would not."

"So would."

I shifted to one side as Sharis promptly pounced on Shayle, dunking her under the water. I leant my head back, ignoring them both as I soaked. I didn't understand them sometimes. None of my siblings or cousins are even close in age to myself, which might be a major factor. There was never anyone around to fight with. Or play. I'm was never sure which they were doing most of the time.

"Ha, take that." I opened my eyes to see Shayle triumphantly letting Sharis out of a headlock. He grumbled but settled back onto the bench beside me. I watch as Shayle shook her arms out and slid back beside me. "Your braids are a mess." She said, reaching out to grab one and hold it out for me to see. I obediently turn around, no use arguing when she'll make sure they're done at some point. Sharis raised an eyebrow and I just shrug when he didn't say anything more. Shayle would do what Shayle wanted to do.

"I was thinking I might ask for a bigger forge." I finally said and Sharis slapped a hand across his face, hiding whatever he was muttering beyond odd words. 'Not a chance', 'bigger', 'anvil' and 'ceiling' were some of them.

I didn't think I'd have a problem. I could be very persuasive when I wanted to be.

=====

I was only required to stay home for a month. A month that actually lasted only two weeks because I was apparently disturbing the peace of the Estate. And I got my bigger forge. They did make me pay the fine for repairing father's forge myself, so I didn't entirely win. But the new forge was a huge improvement. It had room for a proper crucible for lyrium instead of me using a jury rigged pot over the coals. It was still limited by the available space in the smith level so I'd been subtly asking if our Thaig would have a bigger space I could appropriate. I'd hate to leave Orzammar, I'd grown comfortable with the people and places here, but the things I could do with a huge space drew me like nothing else.

"So, this is where you moved to."

"Stone preserve me." My voice was but a mutter as I oh so carefully shift the crucible away from the fire, the molten metal and lyrium within swirling round as I try to calm my rapidly beating heart. "Shayle." Because who else would it possibly be. She's the first one to find my new lair.

"Nice little set up you've got here." She swaggered in, her usual mismatching self with her trousers and tunic (so she can avoid, in her own words: skirts that try to trip her up and ensure she couldn't move). From the length they were no doubt stolen from a brother or cousin again. They made her look like any other lad from the warrior houses. Her hair on the other hand is done up as nicely as any noble ladies with gems entwined in the braids that trailed down her back. I'd thought at that point that I might even understand her some day, it'd only been five years since we first met and she was still as confusing as ever. I had hope though.

I stepped back, letting her look around, I was quite proud of that workshop. Uncle Ortan let me design it and purchased everything I need. In return I had to do some commissions for my house, that wasn't really a hardship. My free time however, was my own and I was in the middle of finding out what a mix of silverite and lyrium would do when used to anchor a fire rune on a blade.

"Caridin. Is your anvil humming?" She's had her ear pressed to the surface, her face screwed up as she concentrated and I couldn't help but laugh as she ran a hand over it. "It's warm."

"It's singing not humming, you just can't hear it." I said, wishing I could share what it sounds like to me. No one I'd asked could hear it properly, most just said there's a buzz or a hum. "I enchanted it."

"Is that safe?" She pulled away quickly, putting a few steps between herself and it. "I mean, I distinctly remember you blowing the roof off the last forge you were in. A solid stone roof."

"Entirely different circumstance." She's never going to let me forget that. She held onto grudges like a deepstalker with a carcass.

"Does this mean my armour's going to be enchanted?" She asked, switching to a new topic while I was still pondering on the old one.

"I."

"Ooooh, can you make it stay warm like the anvil? Father says the deep roads can get cold."

"I..."

"Or make it glow, so I don't need a torch? But then the darkspawn would see me coming so maybe not."

"I don't..."

"How about making it shock anybody who touches it... But not me. Because that wouldn't be fun."

"I don't think..."

"Or make them forget I've got breasts and accept I'm just as good at fighting as they are."

"Shayle!"

"Yes?" She blinked at me.

"I'm still experimenting." I said in as completely even tone as I could, just one eyebrow lifting upwards before I smiled.

I must have hit the right note with my smile as she went a shade paler. "On second thoughts, I can wait." She backed towards the door. "I'll leave you to it, let me know when everything is stable." She didn't flee. Exactly. But that was a definite retreat and I added the tally to my pitifully low mental score in the ongoing battle of wits between us.

I whistled as I pushed the handle to move the crucible back over the fire to reheat the mix, modulating my tone to fit the rest of the music I could hear. I thought I'd finally found an answer to something I'd been pondering since I started testing how things worked and this is a last experiment. I'd already done it once, only the first time I used an unmodified anvil. The blade I had made speaks to me of warmth and crackling fire, just as I wanted it to, but there was still something missing. I thought the anvil may be the missing link.

I checked the blade was still on the anvil, angled so that the engraving was ready for the mix. I breathed deeply before moving to pour it out, ever so slowly to create the runic inlay. It bubbled and hissed as it contacted the cooler blade and the fire flares in my mind almost immediately. I set the crucible aside, and moved to hammer the inlay, flattening it down to match the rest of the blade and the first strike of the hammer left me reeling. There was no warmth there, just a raging fire, burning bright. I grinned, savage and wild as I strook again, the flames burning hotter in response. It was a wildfire let loose, snarling and grumbling as I forced it back into it's place and I was panting, sweat rolling down my face by the time I was finished.

It works. I stared at the blade on the anvil, quiescent now, the flames just burning steadily under the surface, yet it pulled at me in a way the other blades I've made don't. The magic in it more confined. It was caged and it wanted to get out. Stone preserve me, but I hadn't expected that response. Not to that magnitude anyway. Magic flows through lyrium, through and into the blades we infuse it into, I'd thought I was losing some of that magic in the forging process. The idea to put reflection runes on my anvil to turn the magic back and try and stem that loss had been an idle one, born from running out of other ideas.

I tentatively picked the blade up and fire bursts into being along it's length, in my mind I could hear them crackling and snarling at me and I reflexively checked I did add in the right runes to ensure the wielder wouldn't be burnt. This was the raging inferno I'd imagined I could make. The fire seemed to agree, the flames burning higher, licking along the blade and setting the metal to a flickering orange glow.

What had I made? And more importantly, what else could I do with this?


	5. Of Family

Sharis and Rico at least had the intelligence and manners to announce themselves when they next visited, letting me know well before they were right behind me and likely to throw liquid lyrium all over something or someone. I put my tools aside when it was clear they wanted to talk to me rather than just escaping tutors or hanging out somewhere warm.

"Caridin." I blinked at the tone, not quite friendly, nor entirely hostile.

"Yes." I really couldn't remember doing anything which would have Sharis pacing back and forth and Rico with a hand settled over the knife on his belt. For that matter, took me a moment to see it, but he was guarding the door. "What is wrong?"

"What are your intentions with Shayle?"

My what? "Make her armour?" I said slowly, they were well aware that I'm doing that, they'd been helping me for a while.

Sharis growled, hands clenching as he stopped pacing to stare at me. "Not those intentions, you fucking sod."

Well, okay, I know I can be slow sometimes but there was no need to be rude; how was I to know which intentions he was talking about? I couldn't even think of any others.

"You. Shayle. Together."

Oh, those sort of intentions.

...Wait. Woah. "No. Nothing. No intentions here."

"Caridin." He said slowly, stalking towards me.

"Seriously, my house isn't even looking for me yet and I'm far too busy for marriage." I said as I backed away from him. I was well aware that I've been backed into the rear of my own forge. Shayle's lectures about never giving ground coming back to me for long enough for me to see why she said it was a bad plan. I couldn't help it though. I'm bigger than both of them, smithing tends to do that, but I wouldn't even get a strike in before I'd be kissing the ground.

"And outside of marriage?"

"What about outside of marriage?" I hadn't a clue what he was asking, what is there apart from marriage? You bind your houses and do your duty. 

"You haven't wanted to have a quick tumble?"

I blink. "Err. No?" It just, hadn't ever seemed appealing. I could find better uses for my time than the things that are gossiped about in the pools and in the taverns after a few cups of ale.

"Huh." Is all he said before he's stepping away and I can't help the shaky breath that leaves me as they both abruptly left, only a hasty farewell thrown out before the door closed with a thud.

"The fuck was that about?" I muttered to an empty forge.

=====

And for the record, no, I didn't work out why I'd just been intimidated until Shayle dropped by a few days later.

She came in, as she usually did, without a word of warning. She was strangely composed, no amount of her usual cheerful sarcastic self anywhere to be found as she settled herself onto my anvil.

Notice how quickly she came to trust that it wasn't going to set her on fire or anything?

As I said, she settled down, which did force me to stop work and pay attention to her. She'd stared at me, jaw clenched and I waited, patient in the face of her indecision.

"My house has contacted House Ortan." She finally said and I nodded patiently, waiting for her to continue. Though I couldn't imagine why they needed to talk, I'd been remarkably boring and non destructive since my last little accident which we found had actually demolished part of the kiln in House Cadash's forge once all the dust was cleared away.

"A marriage contract." She eventually added when I must have shown no reaction to her news.

That certainly got my attention. She'd been griping about being contracted for years, managing to get out of every contract sent her way with some inane reason or other. I'll even admit I'd helped come up with some of the rejection reasons. That her house was still trying caused me no end of frustration, why couldn't they just let her fight like she wanted to, my house let me smith. And setting her up with one of my cousins, that was a low blow.

"You're wanting another rejection proposal then?" I asked as I put my hammer aside. This was going to be one of the long conversations, no use me keeping hold of the tools.

Her face had gotten even grimmer if that were possible when I spoke, her hands curling round the side of my anvil. "I understand then. You won't even accept me. Thought you at least would understand that I come of age in a year, I can't keep putting it off or I'll end up with some ancient broken warrior who's old enough to be my grandfather. Sharis said you didn't seem interested in sex, you know, I wouldn't be wanting that if I'm out in the deeproads. It'd keep our families happy at least."

"Exactly." I agreed and she slid off the anvil with a thump. "Wait..." What she said began to filter into my brain, "me?" That caught her at the entrance to my forge and I suppose the sheer confusion must have made her pause.

"Yes, to you. Who did you think I was talking about?"

"One of my cousins."

"Caridin."

"Yes."

"You know you're a good friend of mine." She stopped in the centre of the clear space and crossed her arms.

"Yes?"

"Then you won't take offence if I say that you are so out of touch you're like a nug trying to hit the roof of the Assembly hall without being thrown."

"No offence taken." I said carefully, still not sure why people enjoyed talking round subjects recently instead of just asking or saying what they mean. "How hard would it have been to say, 'by the way Caridin, my house wants to set up a marriage contract between us'."

Shayle just shook her head and started laughing, eventually ending up leant against a pile of armour parts as she gasped for breath.

"Can I help?" I asked, looking round the forge when I realised she was crying. Not good. I've never seen her cry. I have no idea what to do. "Nugshit. Errrrrrr." There had to be something here that could help.

She went silent for a few seconds, eyes wide as she stared at me. "You never swear." She gasped out before curling up again, her entire body shaking.

One could consider that as my first inkling of married life. Wherein I valiantly attempt to work out what I've done and why Shayle is laughing at me this time.

=====

Oh, and House Ortan was indeed amenable, Uncle was extremely happy when I agreed despite it not being the two years he promised me. I, and Shayle on her end, managed to talk them out of any sort of huge, elaborate ceremony. Just a simple vow taking and contract signing would do us both fine. It was an open contract, we would both remain scions of our own Houses, and our children were to be beholden to their parents House. More traditional than my parents marriage which had our rank dependent upon which gender babe mother birthed first. Not that children were actually in the plans for either of us. Shayle didn't mind children but the thought of carrying one herself seemed a step too far given how her face had twisted into a grimace when I'd asked. Myself, I'd rather avoid them entirely.

I have to say I will never forget that Shayle spent most of the ceremony glaring round at anyone who might possibly be staring at the sight of her in a satin dress in shades of lilac and citrine. She took great pleasure in burning that thing in my forge fire.

Married life didn't really change anything monumental, I kept on smithing, often lost for days in projects, and Shayle turned the spare room connected to the forge into a training room after kicking all my old half finished projects out and demanding I finish them or melt them down. She would remind me to eat and sleep, and I never said a word about her fighting and practising the kata she had long ago memorised. 

I finally made that armour for her too. A fine thing it was of veridium and lyrium enhanced silver gilding. It was made to absorb energy, admittedly it wasn't as strong as it could have been if I focused on a single element, but without knowing what was in the deep roads I just went for stopping a little bit of everything, even some kinetic energy. it wouldn't be enough to stop a blow, but it might soften them. 

She loved it as soon as she saw it which was thanks enough. And Sharis and Rico were appropriately jealous until I made them armour too.

=====

"Brother dear."

Now that's the last voice I expected to hear in my forge. "Sister."

"I need some armour." She glided in, whipping her dress out of the way of the clutter with an ease that told me she's used to moving round armour and weapons.

"You're pregnant." I said, eyeing her belly.

She sighed. "Why am I not surprised you didn't know?"

"Because I don't get out of here much. So, you want armour." I change the subject, I'm really not interested in talking about babies, especially when it's not even been born yet.

"Well, for Valtor. He's running for King."

Something better than that green monstrosity then. Oh yes, I can easily make something better than that. I wouldn't even need to do my best work to come up with something that suits him more. Something to suit a candidate for the Kingship, that'll be harder. On that note... The King's dead? When did that happen? I'll ask later. Noble rule number one: show no weakness.

"Ah. yes. He would want something that's a little more..." I trailed off with a smirk and wink, hoping it covered my pause at realising the King had passed on without me noticing. There were usually criers for that, to make sure the news got round to even those who couldn't read the official notices.

"That set belonged to his grandfather, it's sentimental." She said with a huff, although I'm sure I could see her lips twitch.

"His grandfather clearly wasn't a redhead."

"Aggravating asshole. Will you do it or not?"

"Yes, yes. Send him down so I can take his measurements."

I probably should have specified that she come with him.

At least this time I didn't break his nose.

I did get the measurements before we got to the fighting part though. And by we, what I really mean is that my friendly Cadash horde turned up in time to stop me from getting my ass well and truly kicked.

After that I went out for a well earned drink to nurse my bruises and catch up on the gossip, warriors are like a pack of old Noble women when they've had a few ales.

The King was indeed dead, killed in a deep roads skirmish. As was Lord Meino, Valtor's father who was the heir designate since the King had no blood kin from his own House to choose from that were of an age to rule.

Which would explain why Valtor is running for the position. He's just inherited his father's place as Head of House Meino. Lovely, I'd actually have to start remembering to try not to insult him too much. Him being married to my sister I could slide by without such things being picked up on as a slight while he was just the heir.

"So." I said, nursing my first ale. "When exactly did the King die?"

There's a long beat of silence. "Caridin, never change." Rico muttered.

"Three days past. The darkspawn are getting bolder." Sharis said, taking pity on me.

Silence returned to the table and I couldn't help but realise how quiet the tavern is. There's plenty of bodies but the conversation is subdued. 

"Alright, what is going on?"

"We lost contact with some of the far out Thaigs." Rico said slowly.

"It's that bad?" Good thing Ortan is so close, in relative terms at least.

"That bad. The thing is..." He trailed off, shooting Shayle a helpless look.

"The King's last orders were to send another force out to follow his scouting and to regain ground." She took a deep breath. "They're sending all the older cadets out even though we've not been through our proving."

"All of them?"

"Aye.

"You two?" Sharis nodded, teeth worrying at his lip.

"I'm going too." Shayle blurted out.

I should have expected that.

I totally didn't expect it.

"Caridin?" She prompted when I didn't say anything. "You said you'd let me go."

I had said that. I promised I'd let her fight. "I just didn't expect it to be so soon." Is she ready? Are any of them ready? It's too early, they shouldn't be going. It's not like my test. If I failed I'd just have tried again. If they fail they'll be dead. There's all sorts in the deeproads and they'll be actively looking for them and then going after them.

"Neither did we." She put a hand over mine and I reflexively clasped it.

"I'll... miss you." That may have been the first time I said that. If you look closely it almost resembled what other couples say.

She made a strange sound. "Of course you will. I'll miss you too."

I won't tell them to come back. Warriors don't believe in luck or wishes. There's only the will of the ancestors. It isn't till the next morning, as the last of the army set out that I give in, they can have my blessing whether they want it or not. "Stone watch over you all." I muttered, pressing a hand against the rock beside me. They can trust in the Ancestors. I trust in the Stone.

The walk back to my forge seemed to take a lot longer.

=====

Creating armour was not the same without the constant chatter and haranguing.

I was almost glad when it's done and Valtor is taking up forge space. Not because he in particular is there, just that there's somebody present instead of the silence. His usual surly expression when meeting with me is firmly in place, except there's a gleam in his eyes that I can't fathom as he abruptly turned away. "I'll send one of my servants down to collect it tonight." I let out a long breath of slightly hysterical relief; he was accepting it. I'd thought for a moment he was going to deny my work simply because we seem to hate each other. "Furthermore, I would request your presence at my estate, tomorrow. Alone." He whirled around in a soft chiming of mail and stalked out the door, leaving it open behind him.

It's moments like this that reminded me that I really hate that he outranks me. By the time I've closed the door, letting the latch fall into place, the only sound left in the forge, beyond the ever present hum of lyrium and crackle of the coals is my rumbling growl. "Fucking asshole." I didn't swear much. Valtor just brought out the worst in me.

I had to return to the estate, waving gaily to my cousins as they stared disapprovingly at the ash and metal dust that I tracked in. A long bath and some fine clothing for the morrow was needed. I was also wrestled into getting a haircut and braiding my hair into something other than a single workers plait once my father knew I was going out. Something about me representing my house and the status of our house depending upon how we present ourselves. If that's the case I've clearly been removing any status with my daily trek through the Commons, and surely blowing up the forge would have lost anything that was left.

The next morning I was up before the bells signalled the first shift to rise down in the Commons, pacing across my room, the gems and metal rings in my hair gently clinking with every step. I always felt so out of place wearing them, give me a good set of working leathers any day. The leather is also warmer, or maybe it's just colder up here, I'd clearly spent too long at the bottom level beside the heat.

=====

"Hold up."

I step backwards, eyes wide at the blade that's hovering at the same level as my neck.

"Ser?" I ask, unable to find any of the rank markings that would let me know how else to address the two guards that have stepped in front of me. They're eyeing me strangely, and I could guess that they're trying to place my face as their attention flickered from my House sigil to my face and back.

"State your business."

"I've been summoned to House Meino." I said before blinking slightly, "I'm Caridin of House Ortan." It's been so long since I've introduced myself like that, but it appears to work as they nod, the axe being withdrawn with a fancy looking flourish.

"D'you know where you're going?"

"I have a map and instructions." I held up the folded parchment father had hastily sketched out for me last night and the axe wielder shook his head. Not my fault House Ortan has their house near the staircase and House Meino is tucked away another half level up. I've never needed to go further on the rare occasion I've been here. Or if I have, I've been with somebody and not paying attention to anything other than the tavern locations.

"I'll go with you, save you getting lost." 

"Uhhhm, thank you." I said, unable to come up with a reason to not accept. He gestured me on and fell into step, a soft hand on my shoulder guiding me through the wide open and well lit streets. There's so much to see up here, even the most basic things were not plain, columns were carved in so many different designs, fountains of water and pools of lava were decorated with precious metals. Even the lamps dotted along the way were made with tiny shards of coloured glass. It's so different from the other areas I've been. The forges and the warriors halls are plain compared, everything there having a purpose, and the Commons is decorated with cheaper items, like fabrics and paints. I'd never seen a water fountain made with lapis and sapphires before, yet here it is and that's one of the plainer ones we walked past. They were giving me a headache though. Some of those gems and metals really shouldn't go together, they're just so discordant. A jumble of entwining melodies all playing their own little tune. 

"You're acting like it's your first time up here lad." I startled when he spoke and twist back from where I'd been staring up at the entrance to an estate that is flanked by two looming statues. They're covered in diamond and white gold. Fine on the eyes, if a little bright, but nearly opposites in my head, dull and so out of tune.

"Never really been further than my Uncles estate and the first few taverns." I'm rewarded by his warm chuckle and a hand ruffling my hair.

"Ah, that explains it. You're not watching where you're going." I ducked my head at the amused chastisement and tried to focus on not running into anyone or anything. Eventually the hand on my shoulder tightened. "Here you are lad."

His hand messed up my hair again and I gave my thanks to his back, a wave of his hand as he strode away his only acknowledgement. I'm left staring at the imposing doors and trying to summon my courage to enter. I couldn't put it off, staying out here would only get people whispering and pointing and that's an even worse fate than being stared at inside the estate. The doors open smoothly with barely a push, the quiet grating of stone on stone making heads turn my direction. Most ignored me as soon as they worked out my caste and I stepped to one side, letting the doors swing shut as I peered round. There's usually a senechal around somewhere.

"Apprentice Smith Caridin of House Ortan?" I jumped at the voice beside me, one hand actually sliding towards my belt knife before I remembered myself.

"I am." I wavered a moment, assessing the dwarf before deciding they're a servant and not adding any appellation.

"If you'd come with me please m'lord." I followed him mutely, trying not to be caught staring, despite the sheer opulence that surrounds me. I knew Meino was an old house, but this was just ridiculous.

The servant came to a stop, knocking on a door that is no different from the rest we've passed by.

"Yes?" I recognised the voice that answers.

"My Lord. The Smith you are expecting has arrived." Oh, I like that. The Smith. Not, my sisters brother, or my kin by marriage. That would be the polite way to refere to me. But no, just my title instead.

"Send him in."

The servant opened the door and gestured me in without a word. I took a breath, then another. I could do this. I could get by without starting another fight. Certainly though, stalling would not help me either way and I stepped in, the door closing behind me with what seems to my ears to be a loud thud like a tomb being sealed.

He was wearing the armour I made. I knew it would look far better than that old veridium set.

"Caridin." He acknowledged me with a tilt of his head. Far better than the usual sneers. "I know we haven't always got along." He studiously ignored my muffled snort of laughter. "I have a proposition for you."

"Go on." I prompted, I'll not know if it's a good deal or whether I should be laughing until he actually spoke.

"I wish to commission armour for my house. For my cousins, and for our guard force."

"You trust me to make armour for your house?"

"I trust you are so set in your craft you'd make excellent armour. I don't trust you. You're naive and out of touch."

Oh. Low blow. "I prefer to say non-political and isolationist."

He waved a hand. No doubt that's the same thing to him. He lived for the politics, he likely had no idea what to do with me. I treated his precious game like it didn't exist. Well, I'd never bothered with house lines when taking commissions before and I suppose I'd certainly have the time. I'd need something to keep myself occupied while Shayle's gone. "Sure, I'll do it."

He smiled, and I think that might be the first genuine smile I've seen from him. "Come then, we have a contract to settle."

Ah yes, the fun part of commissions. Making sure I'm not being ripped off by secret clauses hidden amongst the rest that mean I have to buy the materials... you only make that mistake once.


	6. Of Stone

I was surprised by how much I did miss Shayle. I'd started to take her presence around the forge for granted even before we were married. I tried, a few times, presenting her with gifts and a trip to one of the Diamond quarter taverns that only allows in those of high caste. She wasn't particularly impressed, she treated that the same as she did my attempts at cooking and the gifts were accepted with the curiosity of one who isn't sure what the catch is. Romance, it would seem, wasn't a word in her vocabulary.

I even missed the rambunctious intrusions from Sharis and Rico who, like Shayle, had no concept of knocking and only sometimes remembered to make a sound before they were right behind me. I'd learnt to have an ear open at all times unless I wanted to find them breathing down my ear at some inopportune time.

Now my only visitors outside of people being sent to be fitted for armour or weapons tended to be father and my sister, who for some reason kept bringing the little spawn she'd created. That despite the first thing I said upon being presented with the little red haired bundle was "Stone, it's ugly." I may have deserved the hand print that adorned my cheek for the next few days. It, was apparently a she, and was called Getha. She had a powerful set of lungs and I seemed to be able to set her off just by glancing in her direction. I think Carisa may have been trying to hint at something for when Shayle returned. If she was making hints the screaming bundle wasn't selling it.

I told anyone who asked that Shayle went back to Cadash Thaig for a while due to a sick relative. Unless they wanted to trek out to Cadash Thaig - which I can assure you none of my happily luxury ensconced family would do, the lie would hold. Half of them bemoaned any required trips back to Ortan Thaig, and that's considerably closer to Orzammar.

That may also be a reason for not being approached by too many people who wanted things. I was now the Queen's brother. It's a title that meant a lot to certain circles in Orzammar. The wealthy ones mainly. Since it was known that the King utilised my talents I was originally inundated by requests. I shut that down as fast as I could by intimating that the King wished for me to not be disturbed. I'm sure if he had found out that I dared use his name to see off the harridans he'd have been annoyed.

Therefore despite the small noisy interruptions, my commissions were cleared quickly enough and I was left to my own devices.

And as anyone from the Smith Caste will tell you: a bored smith is an experimental smith. I've yet to come to a conclusion on this whether this is a bad thing or a good thing.

For you see, I'd been experimenting with something I'd seen in that vision at my testing. Living stone. I knew lyrium was part of the puzzle, the shining silver-blue eyes had given that away. The rest though was a mystery. I'd tried everything I could think of, yet nothing was working, no amount of runes that I knew had helped. In my frustration I'd turned to acquiring some books from the surface regarding life magic in the vain hope they might have had something that might spark an idea.

It was an offhand comment in a Tevinter book titled 'Mortalitasi' that gave birth to my current experiment. It said that 'life could not be created from nothing. So neither could death.' I'm sure that would make more sense to a mage, however I didn't need to understand the full comment.

As such I wasn't sure if what I was about to try next was a product of insanity or genius. Possibly a little bit of both. Nothing had changed since I sat down to still my shaking hands before I started; I'd laid out the stone, the required ingredient from the book was in place, trapped in the stone cocoon, and my lyrium was melting. I was... Ready?

My hands didn't shake as I picked up the crucible from the forge, the molten metal, a simple steel and lyrium mix was still there, as white hot as when I first melted it when I began work today. I don't know how long it's been waiting there for me, for I didn't even know what time it was, how long I'd been sitting, thinking. It swirled as I moved it to the anvil, such a pretty colour, the song in my head soaring as I began to pour it.

Then the song falters, discordant and wrong. I flinched away, the crucible rolling away when I dropped it, I'm very lucky the remaining mix splashed across the floor not across me. I grabbed my hammer, willing my mind to quiet as I set to work. The sound of metal on stone and steel, usually so soothing was like a drum in my head, ringing notes that pounded against my temples. The song settled soon enough, the metal cooling as I worked and eventually it was done. Done enough that I could stumble away, the ground rushing up to meet me. I emptied the contents of my stomach onto the floor, heaving and gasping.

'I can't do that again'... was the only thought in my mind at that moment. And yet if it worked I'd have to. This was what could save Orzammar. But by the Ancestors I didn't want to do that again. I never wanted to hear lyrium screaming again.

My arms shook as I pushed myself up and stumbled back to my anvil. It's silent again now, or as silent as it gets, just the simple melody that it's had since I made it, layers of metal imbued with lyrium over runes of pure lyrium to form an anvil that has it's own power. The form on top was silent and still. Too silent, the hum of lyrium was barely there despite the mix I used and I reached out to poke it. The stone shifted beneath my fingers, twisted and turned on it's own and I gasped. 

Stone preserve me, it worked.

Tiny stone ears rotated, the little head turned to stare up at me. It was... Well it was a nug, so it's ugly as mud. It's also adorable as it let out a gravelly version of an enquiring chirp. It seemed to have all it's limbs and they were moving well, each joint I'd just forged under it's control as it squeaked and peered over the edge of the anvil. It clattered over the edge like a miniature rockfall, all flailing limbs and granite body. I was subjected to a disgruntled stare from lyrium bright eye sockets once it got back to it's feet. As if it knew I was somehow to blame for it's lack of coordination. Unfortunately I had no way of explaining to a nug that it's now stone and nearly twice the size it was before.

That by the way, before anyone asks me for a nug golem, was a terrible idea in hindsight. Do you have any idea how much chaos a stone nug can create? No, well, first one has to leave the door of the forge open while you're shutting things down, then one has to forget that one just made a giant living nug statue. And nugs are very curious creatures.

It wasn't until I went to study the thing, now with the forge all safely shut down and cooling for the night that I realised I was alone. Tracking it down proved to be quite easy. All I had to do was open the door a little wider and step out. The outraged screams and shouts from several levels higher was a good indication of where to go. It was a simple thing to join the crowd flowing up the stairs to see what the hassle was about this time.

"What is it?" I asked when we came to a wall of bodies. Pretending innocence, I decided, appeared to be my best bet right now, I didn't fancy footing the bill to right the commons. It'd be months of commissions to pay it off and they were boring to do.

"A giant stone nug." A bemused sounding dwarf said as I squeezed myself into a gap in the crowd.

"You don't see that everyday." I said, trying to sound rather incredulous as I watched the guards try to corral it.

"Clearly some form of surface magic." Somebody said in the crowd as we collectively winced at one of the guard being tumbled head over heels by an overexcited and enthusiastic headbutt.

The sound of stone finally shattering is loud and the guard and cowering merchants all heave a sigh of relief as people start to move again, though there are still a large number giving the remains a large berth.

"Mortalitasi?" I ask as I approached, clarifying when nobody seems to understand. "Tevinter Death magic, I ran across the term while studying spirit runes."

"That sounds like it might be right." The most senior of the guards sighed, staring at the shattered mess and then around the upended commons. "I'm not sure the Commander is going to believe me when I tell him this was caused by what seems to be a prank spell likely smuggled in from the surface." Now as long as nobody recalled it coming up from the forges I'd be in the clear. They could just assume it was brought in by one of the merchants.

I nodded, "I'm a rune smith, would you mind if I take the shards to study? I might be able to find some clue as to where it came from."

The guard shrugged. "I'll ask the commander, if he agrees we'll have the parts brought down to your forge. Which is..."

"Caridin's forge, House Ortan." I said, waiting for him to note that down before taking my leave.

I didn't let my relief show until I was back in my forge and the door was shut. That was a close call. Clearly control is an issue - I need some way of controlling them. Something the size I'm envisioning making... they couldn't be allowed to run free since I couldn't tell how much of the nug was still in there, I couldn't take the chance with a dwarven test. I'd have to add some form of command rune. Just in case. If they are still all in there then it won't matter, but I can't allow a golem to run free if the process doesn't work on a full sentient. After all, a nug only has a few thoughts to transfer, dwarves are far more complex.

=====

"They're back. They're back!" The shout and running feet outside peaked my interest enough to set what I was working on aside. Out of my forge I can hear a lot more; shouts and screams, though they didn't sound panicked, from up on higher levels.

It couldn't be.

I joined the dwarva running for the stairs.

The crowd grew thicker the closer I got to the warriors quarters until I was pushing through, eyes scanning over them all. There were groups forming all over the place, women and children from the warrior caste and men from a variety of other castes all finding their partners, or in some cases being consoled. I remember thinking that from the size of the returning force, there would be a lot wearing blue banding on their arm tomorrow.

I was starting to think I'd be one of them when I caught a glimpse of armour that snapped my head round. It's dirty and field repaired, but I'd recognise my own work anywhere. I wind through the crowd until I could reach out and grab Rico's arm. He twisted round, blinking at me for long enough I was fearing the worst, before his face broke into a huge grin.

"Caridin!" He wrapped his arms round me and I winced at the touch of the tunnel cold steel he's wearing as it presses against me through the thin linen shirt I had on. "Shay and Shar are fine." I could feel him start to let go before his arms tightened again and he leant in closer to my ear. "Don't treat Shayle any differently than Sharis if you see them, we've somehow kept that she's a she from everyone." He let me go, one hand reaching out to clasp my shoulder. "We'll come round later, we're going to get cleaned up and deal with all the bureaucracy first."

"Sure." Not sure if there's anything else I could say or do. Because he's quite right. I couldn't give in and greet Shayle like the rest of the couples were reacquainting. Somebody would put things together.

"Caridin." Sharis said from directly behind me before his arms wrapped round me. "Your armour saved my life you know."

"And mine."

She's here.

I twisted out of Sharis' hold and nodded at him, then at Shayle. "Shar, Shay." I greeted them using the names Rico just gave me. It's been far too quiet without them. Without her. "I'll see you all later then. Down at my place. I'll get some food."

"Sounds good." Shayle said and I backed away before I could give in to the urge to wrap her up in my arms and not let go.

Later is several hours later, the clang of metal let me know they arrived before Shayle lifted me off my feet and into a hug. "Oooof, fuck, you've got strong." I said with a wheeze as she put me down.

"It's good to be back." She said, pulling her helmet off. "Give me a hand with these straps."

"How did you manage to hide for so long?" I ask as I knelt down to unbuckle her greaves.

"By doing the last thing Shayle would do." Sharis said as he moved to undo the breast plate. I notice that he and Rico are already out of armour. "Who would think that the quiet, shy, retiring shadow at my side was the outspoken, loud, obnoxious girl cousin of mine?"

I grinned as I set the greaves aside. "Quiet? Bet that was a challenge."

"Fuck off." Shayle said without any heat. She stretched her back once her armour is off, her spine popping. "I'll have you know I can be quiet when I have to be." She dragged another chair over to settle beside me. "You learn quickly or you don't learn at all."

"That bad?" I asked as Shayle shifted around until her head was on my lap.

"Worse." Rico said, before he shook himself.

"They're no better than animals." Shayle muttered into my lap.

"After the battles was worse." Sharis said slowly. "All of... Can we talk of something different?"

"Like why do you have a giant stone nug head?" Rico asked as he reached over to give the stone snout a solid prod.

"Ah." I let my hand run through my braids. "That was... Well... Imisjudgedanexperiment."

"I'm not sure I want to know." Sharis declared, his face cleared of the dark brooding expression he was wearing just a moment ago. I'd take that as a successful topic change, even if it is going to be at my expense.

"Well I do." Rico said. "Tell."

I shrugged, "I made a nug golem."

"Golem?" Shayle asked sleepily.

"Animated statue."

"But it's a nug!" Rico waved his arms in a gesture at the head, as if I hadn't seen it before. "Why a nug?"

"I had to start small. I've got a bigger forge being hollowed out in Ortan Thaig so I can try something bigger."

"You're leaving?" Shayle exclaimed, sitting up so fast she nearly collided with my chin.

"I was hoping we could both leave." I wrapped my arm round her. "I was waiting for you to return."

Her smile was blinding as she put her head back down on my lap. "Right. Of course."

=====

We moved not long after. I found I needed the extra space that Orzammar could not provide before I could continue any of that line of experimentation. My house were only too happy to hew a new room from the rock for me, larger by far than my last, though they did not ask what I was making to need an anvil so large that I had to build a new one rather than just bringing my smaller one with me. It is built deep down, there was nothing there to distract me, nor indeed, does sound echo back up to the Thaig above.

The first one to volunteer was silent. A miner, either old enough he wasn't truly aware of what I was trying to do or simply unwilling to speak to me and I'd just shrugged, slotting armour into place. The lyrium was already melted and I was as ready as I could be. I blocked my ears to the screams, thankful when they ceased quickly. The smell lingered longer, a faint tang of blood and charred flesh that melds with the scent of lyrium. This was to be my destiny, my fate. The ancestors themselves set me on that path and I would not falter.

I started from the helm, the stone does not stay malleable for long, no matter how many runes I've used. Despite the screams as the lyrium burnt away flesh I was not ready for the groan of pain. The nug hadn't twitched as it was being created. I must ignore it, for what could I do about it; I did not think the herbal brews that we use for pain and mending would work on stone. Nor did I have the time to go and grab one, if I did the stone would be fused solid by the time I returned. I nearly missed a blow when the arm jerked, trying to move away from my hammer blows and I had to put my weight onto it to work on the wrist, making sure every joint is finished before I released it. It got stronger as I worked, by the time I was finished my arms are strained beyond anything I remembered, throbbing with a bone deep weariness. I was still flesh and blood and I was no match in strength for what I had created. Yet for all that it twitched and writhed, it seemed unable to truly move, as if it was not yet fully awake.

Eventually, when it still hadn't moved I took up the control rod I had created and order it to move. It obeyed instantly, a silent hulking behemoth that sat up from the anvil and went to exactly where I had ordered it to go.

But I still recalled the vision and something tells me it's not the same. Something was missing. I needed to perfect the process before I could say it is complete. I thought at first it was something incorrect in the rune sequences I used. After all, the nug had worked so why wasn't the dwarf transferring correctly?

I would need to do a lot more work before I tried with a living volunteer again. There's only so many old dwarves in the Thaig that I could convince to be part of this.


	7. Of Steel

I thought at first it might be the runic combinations that were the problem. If I switched them around I'd find the correct sequence. Yet the second attempt was no different. It wasn't until an offhand comment from a warrior talking about his axe and the enchantments on it, overheard as I walked through Ortan Thaig on a food resupply run, that I realised just how stupid I'd been. The runes were fine, I should stop doubting myself. The problem was the material.

Stone was a good material; strong, unyielding. It made good armour for a golem. What it didn't do is hold magic well. Iron and steel can only be enchanted so far before they cannot hold more, the magic unable to exist in that small a place. It only took exploding a blade to find that out. The more expensive metals can hold even more, some of the best creations can have several different enchantments in place at once.

Now my golems were huge, far larger than a blade, so stone had still been working to an extent. It'd hold runes well enough to animate them, but not much else. Surely then, using steel over stone would mean more can be stored. More than just a vague imprint of a personality that would be burnt away by my smithing.

So there it was, a replica of my stone golems, yet instead of bare stone it was sleek steel, polished to a shine.

I'd been searching the Thaig for a volunteer to help me, the last four were all older dwarva with no kin. They welcomed my experiments if it would lead to a breakthrough. What else did they have left? Unable to practice their craft and with no kin to support them. Was a quick death in my forge any worse than a slow starvation?

This one though, in case it worked I wanted somebody with more of their own senses left. I wouldn't want to test if senility brought on by old age also transfers. A senile golem would be a terrible thing to create.

It took nearly a week after the frame was ready to find a volunteer I thought suited. And then it was time. He's ready, my tools were in place, the forge was burning hot and the lyrium was close to fully melted. I'd done this before, so why was I hesitating? Is it perhaps that I couldn't take another failure.

"Ach, lad, look at me." I wanted to protest I'm not a lad any more, I'd passed my coming of age and I'd earned my title of Smith, yet the old miner had that air about him that just made you accept that to him, everybody must be a lad. I gave him a smile, swallowing back any words because I wasn't sure my voice would hold. He only knew what I hoped to achieve, not what must be done to get there. "Lad, I'm not sure what you have to do, don't think I rightly want to know either, but if this is what it'll take to stop the war I'll do it."

I drew in a ragged breath. ""It will. I just..." No matter how necessary it was, no matter that I was the one the ancestors chose for this, the screams are hard to forget.

"I'm getting the feeling it's not a nice process." He smiled ruefully, "you think I care about that?" I reached out, adjusting one of his arms, which is, entirely the point he's trying to make as there was no resistance to me moving him. Dwarves are hard to break, 'strong as the stone that surrounds us' we like to say, and yet when it comes down to it, the stone is still stronger. His voice was soft as he stared at me, "I'm no use in the mines any more am I? Nothing but a burden and I don't want to return to the stone in this state. I've chosen to do this lad."

I thought I understood him, I wouldn't want to continue living with a broken neck, unable to do anything but lie in place, forever denied the ability to craft as the ancestors directed me to. No. It'd be a living death and that's no way to survive. His body was slowly hidden from sight as I hauled the last of the armour plates into place, the sound of each one fitting together a dull clang of metal on metal that reminded me of what I was planning to do. In a way this will be a mausoleum, his last resting place. If I'm lucky, it won't be the end of him though.

"Lad."

I rest the faceplate against the side of the huge anvil I created and look at him. "Yes?"

"If this works, do me a favour."

"Yes?"

"Anyone else comes to you and volunteers themselves, look them in the eye and thank them. What you have to do is part of the process and the result will be worth it. Don't cheapen our wish to protect our Thaigs."

I nodded, words entirely gone as I picked the face plate up, slotting it into place with a last hollow thunk. This was it. There was no one there but us. This would either prove my theory or I'd be back to working out what I was doing wrong.

My hands were steady as I dragged the huge crucible over, the pulley system I set up softly clattering. I cannot doubt myself. The ancestors themselves showed me this. I would not falter.

A breath. Steadying.

I tilted the crucible.

I repeated exactly as I did with the stone, I saw no reason why anything should be different. The only change this time had been the material. It's a delicate balance between keeping it soft enough to work and not letting it melt entirely, I spent months finding the balance and the knowledge that I'd done this before gave me strength. Eventually I stepped back, hammer lax in my grip. Watching carefully for any sign of life.

Then he sat up, one steel hand rising to be held in front of bright blue eyes. The hand rotated, slowly flexing, then the other. There's a soft whisper of metal on metal, of gems softly clattering together. I held my breath. Had I done it? That he was moving on his own is further than I'd got before. I could still faintly feel the lyrium singing if I tried to listen for it, but it's muted, changed. Even more than in the stone golems. I'd melded magic and spirit to create, or maybe I should say, to recreate life.

"Lad." The voice is deep, gravelly, but with an almost metallic undertone, there's still a hint of the warmth from earlier, the faint trace of his accent still present. He turned, sliding his legs off the anvil, and I could swear there was a look of wonder on his face, except metal doesn't allow such expression.

He stood.

I jumped backwards as he crashed to the ground and I'm not sure what to do. Did I miss something? 

"Ach, this will take some getting used to." He said as he pushed himself up again, wobbling slightly until he found his balance. "Seems you did it lad."

I approached carefully, dying by being crushed by a newly created golem that doesn't have the absolute steadiness of the stone creations I made before was not on my priorities list. The steel was cool to the touch as I placed a hand on one thigh, running my hand over the smooth metal I used. I froze at weight on my head before realising it's more a ruffling of my hair, a caress of steel that is more gentle than I could have imagined. I didn't expect him to have such fine control without any input from the control rod. 

"How does it feel?" I asked.

"Strange." He said, head tilting slightly. "Heavy, yet right." He looked round, considering. "There is no bright colour any more, yet I still see. I hear well enough, though I think perhaps it is a different range. I cannot feel." His hands crashed together above my head and I jumped at the loud sound. "No, I do feel, but not as flesh does."

"I have... A few more tests to run." I told him as I crossed the room, feeling as well as hearing the thump of heavy footsteps following me across my forge.

"I would expect you do lad." The voice rumbled.

"How much do you remember?"

The silence stretched, and I had no way of telling what he was thinking, there's no shift of weight, no expression to give away his thoughts, not even the rise and fall of his chest for what need does a golem have of air. He's as still as the steel I created him from. "Everything. Nothing." The head tilts slightly, the unwavering, piercing gaze still fixed on me. "I know who I am. I remember places, people, conversations. I know what I was, yet the memories of actually being flesh are vague, insubstantial."

"Is that a bad thing?" I certainly wouldn't want to be reminded of what I no longer had.

"Perhaps. Perhaps not." He said, shoulders shifting in a giant metallic shrug. "We will see."

Well then, just one last thing to do, my fingers closed round the rod I created. A mix of steel, lyrium and blood, his blood to be specific. It's a pretty little thing, inscribed with runes in a spiralling pattern that match the ones that were written on the inside of his armour. At least, it would be pretty if it didn't have the purpose I created it for.

"Don't move."

He made a startled noise. "Lad?"

I gripped the rod a little tighter. "I made a fail-safe. Just in case I needed it with the last attempts." Just in case this one failed too, like the stone failed to be everything I hoped they would be. Perhaps the next steel golem won't have need of a control rod.

"Can't say I like that personally, but a wise precaution."

"I guess." It felt wrong now to have created it. The stone ones, they need it, they don't have the independent thought required to move about without directions.

"You're not still regretting this are you lad?"

"No. I'm doing what the Ancestors laid out for me to do. It's just... I killed you, sort of, I mean you're still here but it's not the same." I raised my head, meeting the icy blue gaze. "You screamed."

"Let me go lad." Let him, oh. Right. He jerked a little when I finished the thought, feeling the rod warm a little in my hand as my will is transmitted. He lowered himself down to a crouch. "If the Ancestors chose you, it was because they knew you would be strong enough to follow through with this."

"They all scream." I admitted quietly, for a moment I allowed myself to hate the stone that cursed me with the strength of the senses I have and the Ancestors for their vision and I slammed my hand into his thigh with a growl.

He reached out and for a moment I thought he was going for the control rod, my mind ready to freeze him, instead he gently took my other hand, the empty one, ever so gentle and I could feel the strange grind and flex of metal as he looked at the damage I did to myself. "You know, I barely even felt that."

Laughter escaped me, edged with pain as I pulled my hand back and reach for one of my ever present healing vials at my belt. Too many times I'd burnt myself part way through a work I couldn't leave, having them always on me just made things simpler. "So, do you think it's time to go visit the Assembly."

"Me?" The inflection didn't change yet I would swear he's surprised.

"You see any more golems that can move under their own power?"

He took a moment to look around at that, head tilting just slightly as he approached one of the stone golems. "They do not?"

"No." I said shortly. I was still annoyed by how long it took me to figure such a simple thing out.

He held a fist up, flexing his fingers. "I am metal not stone. That is the difference?"

"Yes. Metal can hold more runes. More magic."

He hummed, the sound echoing round the forge. "It will be hard to produce large numbers from metal." He said with the surety of one who has spent a lifetime digging for just that.

"I think I might continue with stone production, they can be ordered to hold rooms or passageways free of darkspawn and ignore anything else." They'd really help outlying areas hold if golems were on the defensive lines and they don't need to think to defend a position. "I'll use metal when I can, you'd make much better forward troops, you don't need orders to reason out a battle plan."

"True enough." He agreed. "Well, not entirely true, I'd still need orders if you want me to fight, I'm no warrior."

=======

I spent a day letting Astin acclimatise himself to his new body before we set off for Orzammar. I probably should have taken some of the guards with me, or waited for a trading caravan to be heading out just to be safer. That though would have taken time and I was impatient to show off what I'd done. No other Smith had managed to create a living weapon.

The halls and roads we passed through were still well lit, the hum of lyrium in the stone around me a contented hum. No sign of the strain that had been spoken of in Ortan Thaig whenever I came out of my lair to find food. I was expecting cave ins and tunnels with darkspawn flooding out of them. We got none of that, not even a single deepstalker nipping at our heels.

On the other hand, causing mass panic, fear and confusion had been exceptionally funny for me.

"Here we go again lad." The low bass chuckle beside me was a sweet counterpoint to the panicked yells of the guards as we approached the outer edges of Aeducan Thaig. This had happened at every Thaig, checkpoint and guard-station and it's not gotten old yet.

"Lets give them a moment, let them stop shouting to each other before I try and talk to them."

"Too late." Astin said rather deadpan as he spun round, dragging me with him. There's a faint clang and he raised a hand to his shoulder, brushing at the metal where I could see a faint scratch in the flickering light.

"Did they just shoot you?" I asked.

"I believe they did."

"Do you fucking mind, you sodding piles of bronto dung!" Silence followed my yell. Not my usual language, but Shayle's vocabulary does tend to work best with other members of her caste.

A voice echoed back, I don't think it was entirely meant for us, "Ah, one sec boys, might not be an armoured ogre."

Astin rocked back on his heels and I laugh at the affront I could all but feel rolling off the golem. Highly mobile faceplates are not needed to show how insulted he was at that comparison.

"Absolutely not." I shouted back. "Don't shoot my friend again, he's not too happy about the scratch in his armour."

"More annoyed at being called an ogre." He muttered to me as we made our way into the Thaig.

"Look on the bright side, this is the last Thaig before Orzammar."

=====

"Stand down." My shout echoed in the tunnel. I know they'll pause simply because darkspawn don't yell at them with an Orzammar raised accent. Maybe if I talked first this lot would hold off from wasting their arrows.

"Identify yourself." The return yell was more wavering than some we've passed. but then that's not unexpected, most of the Orzammar guards were by this point recruits or newly commissioned warriors. Anyone with any experience had been sent out to the front lines to hold the Thaigs we still had in our possession.

"Smith Caridin, House Ortan."

"And ah, well, that, uhhh, thing?" The guard doesn't sound quite sure what to call him.

"He's a Golem, his name is Astin and he's with me."

There's a moment of silence, a flurry of hand signals I couldn't quite make out in the low light and the guard spoke up again. "You can come through."

"So kind of you." I muttered, low enough that only Astin could hear me and he chuckled again, dutifully following at my heels as we passed into Orzammar. Heads turned to watch us, Astin wasn't exactly something to overlook, what with his very footsteps causing a reverberating thump as we moved forwards. We could hear whispers starting up behind us as we made our way into the tunnel that will take us to the stairs up to the Diamond Quarter.

"Do you actually have a plan?" He asked as we climbed.

I shrugged, waiting as he ducked under a low hanging section - low for a golem that is - we would need to expand some of the tunnels, they were made for beings my size, not for my creations. "Not really. Thought I'd just walk in." It's not like they tended to lock the doors to the Assembly chambers unless there was a vote going on. Nobody not of the Noble cast or one invited by them would dare try and enter anyway.

"Is that advisable lad?"

"I am technically a member of a Noble house, and who's going to argue with you?" I was neither heir nor Lord of House Ortan so I didn't actually have the right to enter. I just figured they'd not notice or care once Valtor got a look at Astin.

He hummed, the sound bouncing off the walls as he raised a hand to examine it again, still fascinated by his new frame. "I see your point." The guards at the top of the Diamond Quarter gave us startled looks but didn't try and stop us. The Nobles on the other hand scattered like nugs and I strode through the clear path towards the Assembly Hall.

"Ready?" I asked as we paused in the foyer.

He shrugged, steel screeching over steel. "I don't think I'll get more ready than I am now lad. I've never spoken to a Noble, apart from you, certainly not any of the Deshyrs."

I smirked, "treat them like arguing children and you can't go wrong."

His laughter was stifled as we entered, his footfalls quickly causing the argument in progress to peter out until every eye is turned to us. Over forty dwarves are simply staring in our direction, it wasn't easy to keep a straight face, not with King Valtor being one of those staring with blank incomprehension, his mouth hanging open where he'd trailed off mid word. "Good evening." Still not a sound as they just continued to stare at us, well, more at Astin really. "I think I broke them." I muttered in an aside to him.

"What have you done now?" Valtor asked, moving forwards for a better view.

I can hear other murmurs start up; "What is it?" The most common question being asked.

"Exactly what you requested the Smith caste to do. Forge a weapon that can push the darkspawn back to the depths."

"A weapon." The King said as he moved round the cavern to come to a stop before Astin. The golem stare back down at him and I was suddenly struck by how easy it would have been for me to seize control of the entire Assembly if I wanted to. I had the control rod, one thought and the King would be crushed. With more golems I could have more than just the Assembly under my control. A good thing for him that ruling the Kingdom would keep me out of my forge, I didn't want his position. "You are in control of it right?" He whispered to me as he carefully stepped forwards to press a hand against metal.

I nodded back. "He. Not it." He didn't seem to notice that I haven't answered the rest of his question.

The King looked startled, the hand that was poking at one metallic hip moved quickly away. "He?"

"Very much so." Astin rumbled.

"Sodding ancestors!" Valtor swore, taking a hasty step backwards. "It's alive."

"He is alive." I corrected, trying not to let my frustration show.

"Stone preserve us." Valtor said in awe.

I let my mouth curve up into a smile. "Yes, metal and stone preserve us."

I can see the moment the full impact of what I've done is realised. "You've animated a steel frame?" It's half question, half statement.

"He has." Astin said before I can speak up to correct Valtor's guess, one arm moving faster than I imagined to press Valtor against a wall. My hand fumbled for the control rod, yet I hesitated at the lack of a scream or other noise of pain as the golem simply kept the King trapped in a vice despite his futile attempts to free himself. "Darkspawn die as easily as dwarves do. I could crush you with one fist. What does that suggest I could do to darkspawn?" He let go as quickly as he captured him, returning to my side with one heavy step.

"I thought you said it was under control?" Valtor hissed as he rubbed at his neck.

I chuckled. "Didn't actually harm you did he?" I stepped forwards, smile pulling at my lips. "A show of power, that was all." Entirely unplanned, but I can work with it. "With more volunteers; those who are injured and wish to still fight, I can create more. Can you imagine an army of my golems falling upon the horde?"

I could see the way his eyes lit up, an answering smile on his face as he finally, finally saw the full extent of what I could do.

"Yes." He said slowly, "what do you need to make it happen?"

"Apprentices. I need stone carved down and I need metal workers. They will free me to do the more intricate work. Obviously I'll need the materials too. I'll also need volunteers. For now, those injured would be best, take some of the burden off Orzammar. After that I'll ask for volunteers."

"I'll see to it that you get what you need." He said quickly, his eyes are still turned towards Astin and only flickered back to me occasionally. "What of your forge? Do you need any more room perhaps?"

"If there is anything needed in his forge, we will see to it." Carid speaks up from his position across the Assembly hall. My uncles voice is hard, his eyes narrowed slightly at the King.

"Very well." Valtor replied before he leant in towards me. "Do remember my offer if House Ortan is unable to provide you with anything." I despised politics. Even more than that I hated being an object to be used by the political minded. Unfortunately it was going to happen whether I liked it or not.

"I will remember that." I said, offering nothing and conceding nothing. Neutrality is the best I could aim for at that moment.

"Very well, Mastersmith Caridin. We will discuss this breakthrough. Draw up a list of materials you require and have it delivered back here tomorrow so we may work out what we can spare. I presume you can find your own apprentices? We can prepare a speech to ask for volunteers. And do us a favour, stay out of the way for the night."

I hoped that 'we' regarding a speech was a royal kingly 'we' of he'd be sorely disappointed.

"I can find apprentices once they see him." I jerked a thumb at Astin, I was going to have more apprentices than I'd know what to do with no doubt. "We'll retire to my forge here for the night." I said before bowing and backing out. Behind us dwarves begin streaming out, awed looks being cast at us before they scurry off. The doors are closed behind us, indicating a closed session of the Assembly with just the King and Deshyrs is now in progress, no doubt the King did not want more rumours than just seeing Astin would create to be circling the city.


	8. Of Politics

It seemed word of the King making a speech had gotten around. Likely helped by those that had seen Astin yesterday and put the two rather significant happenings together. The staircases were thronging with dwarva of every profession, none of them paying the least bit of notice to behind them.

"Do you think Valtor will accept, 'stuck in traffic' as a valid excuse to not turn up?" I muttered as I pushed past a miner who swore at me and shoved back. This was getting me nowhere. "Astin, can you clear a path?"

The golem, remarkably silent so far given his size, even the heavy footfalls lost in the noise of so many dwarva tilted his head. "Cover your ears lad." He said to me before straightening up. "Move aside." The sudden awed hush, and a rapidly opening path was the result of the booming yell which had echoed up the stairwell.

"Better." I said as I took advantage, striding up into the Commons.

Now, I just needed to find where we're meant to be going. I didn't think to ask where the speech would be happening. While I don't see Valtor yet, there's a few guards who were wearing his colours keeping a clear space in the Diamond Quarter. The lowest balcony overlooking the Commons is a spot often used for proclamations; it lets the Nobility stay up and away from the masses, while allowing the other castes to hear what is being announced. I made my way over until we were right underneath the balcony. Here would do just fine.

"Ah, Mastersmith?" A voice asked from above.

"Yes?" I leant back until I could identify the guard as one of Valtor's. He was leaning out rather precariously, one arm wrapped around a column to stop himself pitching over the edge.

"Are you not coming up here? We've got a space for you."

"No." I shook my head. "We'll be fine here. I doubt anyone is going to attack me."

He snapped his gaze back to me from where it had drifted to look at Astin. "Ah, no." He tugged at his beard with his free hand "I suppose you've got a point there." He disappeared from sight.

"Caridin, must you be so difficult?"

"Good morn to you too Valtor." I shouted back up, gleefully ignoring the widening eyes from anybody within hearing range at my familiarity. "How's my sister and niece?" Everybody always forgot he's my brother by marriage. Same way they tended to forget I was a Noble sometimes. I'd actually had a few merchants refuse to sell me anything until Ide found somebody who can confirm to them that yes, despite wearing well used smith leathers, I was a member of House Ortan.

"They're fine. She asks that you visit while you're here."

"I'll make some time. I don't suppose Getha has moved on from braid eating yet?"

Valtor made a face that likely mirrored mine the first time I realised my darling niece had all unnoticed left one of my braids a thoroughly saliva coated mess. "Unfortunately not."

"I'm sure I'll survive."

Valtor laughed. We may not get along most of the time, but we both loved my sister and if that meant putting up with the tiny spawn I would do so. Even if I had no idea what to do with the tiny dwarva who eats my beard braids and just babbled happily at me.

"Dwarva." Valtor shouted. The Commons goes silent. Astin is big - quite literally - news. And Valtor won't keep shouting beyond his initial call to them all. He knew how to talk to a crowd, letting the cavern project his voice so they remain quiet to hear him speak.

"Dwarva. Today we can celebrate a new breakthrough in our war against the darkspawn." There's muted muttering and a lot of heads glancing my way.

"As many of you know, the darkspawn have been pushing forwards, our warriors have been valiantly defending us. There is still only so much they can do. I asked the Smith Caste to come up with a new weapon. A new way of defeating the darkspawn that have been taking our land and our lives.

I have seen many projects, traps that can halt the darkspawns progress, mechanical weaponry that can kill from further away and save the need to get so close. Yet this weapon is far more potent. It's creator calls it a golem, I am told by the Shaperate that is an old word that translates to something like living statue.

A statue that cannot feel pain as we do. That will not tire. That will not need to eat or sleep. A weapon that can be directed to do our bidding and will not stop.

Imagine if you will, an army of golems before our army. A wave of metal and stone that can crush the darkspawn before they are able to take the lives of our warriors.

Imagine these guardians posted in the outermost Thaigs. Where before we are having to split our armies, weakening them to protect what we can, each Thaig can have golems to protect them.

I believe we do not have here the means to survive. We have the means to win. To push back the horde."

He paused as the Dwarva cheer, the thumping of nailed boots on stone floors echoed around until the stone seemed to reverberate. He had to wait for the echoes to vanish before he could continue.

"There is of course, a price.

It is a price I am asking you to pay. I will sorrow over every one who makes this choice and your names, no matter what House you are from, what Caste you are from, will be recorded. We will honour every one who makes this choice and your kin will be rewarded for your sacrifice. For you see, the creation of a Golem takes the life of a dwarva."

You could hear a pin drop from the upper balconies.

"I ask any men amongst you here who are old or injured to continue your journey, become the defenders of our Thaigs. We need all the children we can get so I cannot allow any woman who can bear a child to do this." I could see heads nodding as conversations start up. Very clever of him. Appeal to their sense of honour, for no dwarva likes to be idle.

"What's the reward?" Someone shouted.

"Two gold." Valtor replied without a pause. That's not a lot to myself. To the lower castes though, servants, or even, as I believe Valtor was hinting at, the casteless, that's more than they could see in months.

"You really aint be minding how old we are?" I turned to the voice, finding a weathered face, so lined with seams I'm surprised he was still walking under his own power. 

"No." I replied. "Age is of no concern."

"Hmmmm." He said, squinting up at Astor. "I think I might sign up, I'm due to return to the Stone soon, might as well keep being useful." He tottered away, not waiting for a reply.

Another took his place, hands on hips as a piercing gaze swept over me. "So only men can aid you with this. Is a woman's sacrifice not good enough?"

"The king knows we need children. Who would we be saving our halls for if all the mother's have become golems?" I let a smile cross my lips. "You heard his decree same as I, no women who can bear a child will be accepted."

The woman opened her mouth as if to argue, before she chuckled. "Ah, and if we should be beyond bearing children?"

"Then I'm not going against the king's will am I?"

She reached out, patting my shoulder. "I like you."

"Thank you?" I think that was a compliment.

"Will you be accepting apprentices?" Another voice asked, a silver bearded smith settling into the space the old woman vacated.

"Yes, I'll put a notice up tomorrow."

"Excellent, I'll make sure my grandchildren are there." He nodded his head, sent one last glance up at Astin and stepped aside.

"Are you married?" A faceless voice shouted from further back.

"Yes!" I got that out as quickly as possible, I did not need to be inundated with marriage proposals. The crowd round me chuckled, likely at the panic in my own voice that was clear even to myself.

Although most of the eyes were on Astin I was really regretting not going up to the balcony right now, at least the Nobles respect personal space. That may have something to do with how easy it is to take offence at each other and the resulting assassination attempts, however the point is still valid.

Astin moved forwards, letting me duck behind him. He didn't seem bothered by the curious who just want to touch him. I could hear the various exclamations about how he's not cold like they expected and the startled exclamations whenever he turns his head to sweep his gaze round the commons.

"So that's how much we're fucking worth to you, Smith, two gold pieces."

"Stone preserve me." I hadn't heard anyone creep up behind me.

The Dwarva laughed, his braids clinking against each other as he smirked. "It was a fucking pretty little speech, I'll give you that."

"What would you know of that brand?" I said, scoffing slightly when I caught sight of his tattoo.

He laughed again. "You'll have to fucking try harder than that if you're trying to be fucking insulting Smith."

"It was more a statement of fact, given that you're calling me Smith."

"So I was."

"And what should I call you then?" I said, thoroughly exasperated.

"My name is Zaranaad of no house in particular."

"And what are you guilty of then?" I asked, gesturing at his cheek. The casteless brand was inked onto it in stark contrast to his pale skin, despite the dirt liberally smeared across his face.

"Straight to the fucking point ain't you? If you must know, I was born with a cock not a cunt."

I spluttered. That... How crude.

He laughed. "Just the plain fucking truth Smith. My dearest noble mother had the good grace to feed me till her milk dried up before tossing me back into dust town with my father."

"He was a noble hunter then?" I asked. I'd always ignored the women trying to catch the my eyes, I was never interested in what they were offering even if I knew I would be well within my rights to take a concubine providing they held no house that will come between the alliance of house Ortan and house Cadash. I had no need of a companion, unlike a lot of arranged marriages I actually got along with my wife.

"Got it in one."

"I can't see the appeal." I don't realise I've spoken aloud until he answers.

"Eh, Noble hunting? Me neither. Sure the food, warmth and clean clothing is nice but I can't stand the hypocritical shit that my so called betters come out with. As if they're all fucking superior because of their birth. Some of them are so fucking stupid they don't even notice the simple things."

"Oh. Like what." I challenged.

He flashed me a grin, teeth bright on his dirt darkened face. "Like when their money pouches are going walkabout."

My hand dropped to my belt. A conspicuously empty belt.

"Later Smith." He's already dodging through the milling bodies and out of sight among the crowd before I could shout.

Ancestors tits. Bastard. Well played though.

=====

I should have expected this. Fucking Orzammar. Fucking politics. Fucking Assembly.

They bestowed upon me the highest honour there is...

They named me a Paragon.

I fucking hate them all. That was the main thought going round my head as I climbed the steps to a space on one of the benches. The smile that is on my face is as fixed as if it had been welded. Of course I was so happy, so honoured. Why would I not want to spend my time in a cavern full of self important dwarves arguing about what to do next? At least being elevated to Paragon only got me access to the Lesser Assembly. I'd have become famous for also resigning if they'd tried to give me a position as a Deshyr too.

"Paragon Caridin."

"King Valtor." I nodded back.

Oh nugshit! I just found the upside to that title. I outranked him. The smile on my face was just a little wider and a lot more genuine as I contemplated the next time my sister wants me to call. There would be no terse parchment note ordering me to present myself and interrupting whatever I was planning to do instead. I outranked him and stone I was going to use that. 

"Will you be naming a second?"

A second. I could have one couldn't I? Part bodyguard, part advisor and confident. At least that's what they should be. I fear some are not as trustworthy as others. Who could I name, I don't know any of the Nobles well enough, and I certainly don't trust them. I trust Sharis and Rico but I couldn't ask one of them without it breaking them apart as they were entirely devoted to each other. And I couldn't ask...

Why couldn't I?

"Shayle, House Cadash." I said, waiting as the Assembly Steward looked to the King for his acceptance of my choice.

Valtor pinched the bridge of his nose before he looked back at me. "Impossible, you know she can't fulfil the duties of a second."

"Which bit?"

"Pardon?"

"Which bit of her duties would she not be able to fulfil?"

"Need I point out that she is a female and thus cannot fight. How can she guard you?"

I smiled. "I dare you to take her into the arena and repeat those words to her."

"Ridiculous." Somebody muttered and I turned my glare in that direction. "Can't expect a warrior house whore to serve as a second."

How dare they! I felt my fists tightening, nails digging into skin. "She is my choice. When you accept that and offer an apology to House Caridin, I'll discuss golem production with you again." There was silence as I made to get up, turning towards the exit.

"Easy kin brother." Oh, nice ploy Valtor, very clever, appealing to my sense of family. Not going to work though. I'm still angry. "We were merely worried for your safety."

I did pause. Then turned to the house that would dare disparage her so. The Lord fidgeted under my gaze, he knew full well I heard him and that he's the reason for my near departure. I brushed at my robes, smoothing down a non existent wrinkle. "Oh, I'm sorry, were you going to apologise to my second?"

"My apologies for any disrespect." He muttered with a quick bow of his head.

I smiled, amused. "Do I look like my second." I whirled round and continued out, ignoring Valtor's call. I am not going to play their games. They could accept me as I was and get what they want or we could all refuse to do anything of use. Which actually wouldn't be much of a change. 

For the record, I hate politics.

=====

They only held out for four days before Shayle came to me with a rather bemused expression. "The King." She said. "Just apologised for not acknowledging my new position in the traditional manner, and that he's eagerly awaiting what else you can create. And Lord Forender said that he expected me to be a good second and an honour to my house."

"How strange." I said.

"What did you do?" She asked.

I smiled. "Nothing."

"You can't have done nothing."

"I planned on continuing to do nothing too."

Wait." She looked over the knives I'd been forging for the past few days and I could almost see her connecting the lyrium veins in her mind. "You blackmailed the Assembly."

"That I did." I flipped a knife in one hand, frowning at the balance. That must have been one of the first ones I did after getting back from speaking to them, I still tended to get a little heavy handed when I was angry. "They really want my golems."

======

I stared round at my cramped Orzammar forge. It's so much smaller than the one at Ortan Thaig, and that was before it had been crammed full of dwarva all clamouring to be heard. I've gotten used to having a larger space and nobody interrupting me. There was simply too many people here, like there was in the Commons yesterday. I had no idea how I was going to sort this out.

"D'you need a hand?"

That is the most welcome voice I'd heard since I woke up. "Shayle!" I grabbed her into a hug. "Help." I mutterred into her hair and I could feel her shoulders shaking. I'd forgive her for laughing at me if she could clear my forge.

She let me go and clambered onto a bench, surprisingly nimble given that she's got armour on again. "Right, listen up." Eyes turned her way and she continued speaking before they could dismiss her as unimportant. "You stupid nuglickers are in the way. So, if you're here to become an apprentice, make a line by that wall, if you're not, get the fuck out."

"Lord Caridin?" A scandalised voice called out.

I crossed my arms over my chest. "You heard her. Get in line or get out, if you can't follow a simple direction you'll never work out as an apprentice." The room cleared remarkably quickly. How strange. I looked over the line that's forming, not without lots of pushing and quiet cursing, but nonetheless it's there. And also out the door. Well, as my warrior friends would say, what a lot of fucking bronto dung.

I pulled a large bundle of parchment out from it's place and slapped it down onto the drafting table, along with a quill and ink bottle. I'd rather not waste it all on this, however I was going to need a written record of who people were. I pointed at the first person in line. "You will write your name, your House, who your House is currently sponsored by and why you wish to apprentice to me on that sheet. You will then put the sheet face down to one side and get out."

My glare shifted down the line to ensure they know I was talking to them all. "If that's too difficult, feel free to leave now." I huffed and made for the door into my back room. "Can you keep an eye on them?" I asked Shayle, waiting for her to nod before I abandoned her. I hadn't even heard the noon bell and I'd already got a headache.

"Caridin?"

"Aye?" I asked, rolling over to face the door.

"I think we're done." She held up a large bundle of parchment.

"How many are there?"

"I haven't counted them. I'd guess around fifty or so."

You have no idea how tempted I was at that moment to roll over, pull a pillow over my head and tell Shayle to burn the lot. Alas I really did need apprentices if the Golem making was to progress fast enough that it wouldn't be our grandchildren seeing the armies that Valtor was speaking of. As such I peeled myself out of bed, stumbled to the desk and sat down to go over them all. Generally apprenticeships are kept in house, as it were. With the Golems being so new, I would need to bring a balanced set of apprentices in. Ones from across all the Houses so that there are no calls of favouritism and all the other ugly things the Nobles like to yell at each other. Especially given my new title which just adds another layer of politics as houses look to ally themselves or gain my sponsorship.

Of course, I was so into the politics of Orzammar that I of course knew who was having a disagreement with who at the moment and who would sabotage each others work...

If you believe that you'll believe anything. I just read through the reasons I'd been given and picked the ones I liked the sound of best without really looking at the names.

Then it was onto drafting and copying ten of the contracts I'd written that basically boiled down to: 'if I don't like you I can kick you out'. I wasn't going to be stuck with apprentices who couldn't pull their weight just because their House or Sponsor had gold to throw at me - A pity nobody realised that I would have accepted bribes in volcanic aurum, that stuff was ridiculously hard to get hold of.

They were sent on to their recipients - at least they were after I realised I had no servants of my own and went on a hunt for any small families which may have been without a current employer. Once that was sorted I had to go argue with the warrior caste about getting guards. Namely that they wanted me to have them and I didn't want them. They had several younger sons all clamouring to create a new house to serve me, I didn't want a troop of them following me around. In the end I had to pull out the, 'I have a golem' point to settle that. Then a merchant House dropped by...

Are you starting to see a theme here? I was.

I still haven't forgiven the Assembly for making me a Paragon. I just wanted to be a Smith and they made me deal with not just politics but House business that I couldn't just leave to other members of my house. Because Shayle and myself were the House.

Suffice it to said that after a week of intense negotiations... That is; five brawls that Shayle started, one that I started and likely another score that Astin stopped from starting just by looming at the right time; I had servants employed, two sponsored merchant houses both with surface connections to help me acquire materials, a sponsored mining house that started redirecting lyrium my direction, a lone artisan who I had to respect as he had the guts to tell me to my face that my golems needed more flair and he could do the ornamentation, and the King had confirmed that I, and only I could employ golems for personal protection to ensure that the method of creating them was not lost.

Oh, and House Ortan had gifted me my forge in their Thaig. A very clever move on their part as I didn't have the time to find, secure and build anywhere else right now. So by accepting their gift I pretty much entered into an alliance with them. Which actually wasn't a bad thing. Now was not a good time to be trying to create a Thaig when most were being over-run. There was enough space where the tunnel down to the forge began to add in a few living chambers, and since my new mining House had decided to relocate they were content to hollow out space for everyone. A mini Thaig inside a Thaig one could said. Good enough for me.

Some of the apprentices were a little less enthused. They had obviously served very well off Noble houses and were used to better accommodations than I was providing. Not my problem. They'd either get used to it, work out they could pay the mining caste to enlarge their assigned room, or they could leave.

I had to send out another batch of apprenticeship offers quite quickly.

And maybe another set after that. However, eventually I found some that weren't hopelessly entitled, or just plain hopeless. Now that I wasn't having to keep an eye on them all to ensure they didn't kill themselves, each other or make any monumental fuck ups, actually creating more Golems was the next thing to happen.

The stone frames were quickly filled, volunteers who had nothing to lose flocking to my call. Most never asked what would happen. Each one simply trusting that the stone had guided me into creating the golems and that they must do their part.

=====

"You know I'd go with you." 

I didn't feel even the tiniest bit of remorse for being the reason she's not heading back out with the army. As a Second, no matter how unwillingly confirmed by the Assembly, she cannot be added to the armies ranks unless I signed up to go. Which technically I could, as a Noble the right to fight was my own choice. But you'd not find me signing that sheet without some very strong persuasion. And good luck persuading somebody who can make golems is all I would say to anyone who might suggest I put my name down.

"We'll miss you. Won't be the same killing darkspawn without you." Rico said.

Shayle huffed slightly, shrugging her shoulders. "I'm sure you'll manage." She seems nonchalant, but I could feel the faint tremor as she spoke from where she is pressed against me on the stone bench. Terrified of darkspawn she wasn't, but the thought of not being there herself had her shaking.

"If it makes you feel better, I've finished the first batch of stone golems. They'll be going out with your army." 

"You have?" Sharis said, a grin overtaking his face. "We might even get through without losing half the army."

"Yeah, that's what I'm hoping." I said. This was the final test of my creations. Will they live - pun not intended there - up to the hype and the expectation everybody seemed to have for them.


	9. Of Battle

My apprentices had been let go for the day, they were likely all getting rather drunk as quickly as they co. A rare free day from the evils of Mastersmith Caridin and once drunk I'd not have them back in my forge. Shayle was still moping about being left behind by her cousin and his partner. So I'd banished her and Astin to go collect another shipment for me, just so I could have some peace and quiet. 

Please do note here that despite living as long as I have, that peace and quiet is still awfully hard to come by.

"Oh fuck off nuglicker." I'd heard the footsteps echoing down the corridor a moment ago, I didn't expect the irate sounding exclamation that made me leave what I was working on. "I can't walk any fucking faster, not unless you want to unchain me?" I had a suspicion I should recognise the owner, yet nobody came to mind.

"Not a chance scum. You'd run back to the festering pit you call a home."

"Not home by choice, I can assure you. Oh. Hello again Smith."

Well, well. I had met him before. Briefly. I even remember the name he gave me, if it's even his real one. However... "Hello Brand." I said with a small quirk of my lips as I took in the cuffs and chains at his ankles, and from the way he's balancing, likely his arms being round his back was also not by choice.

"Back to titles are we? And here I thought we were friends." He quiped.

"You will respect your betters." The guard rounded on him with a snarl, driving the butt of his axe into his stomach. I wince, that wasn't a pulled blow as it sends the casteless Dwarva to his knees with a hiss. "Address the lord Paragon with respect."

"Not my sodding betters." I heard him mutter as he wobbled back to his feet.

"Are all the chains necessary?" I asked before the guard sent him back to the floor for the utter lack of sense he's currently showing.

The guard nodded. "Absolutely, my Lord."

"I can pick locks almost as well as I can lift coin purses."

"I'm not sure that's a skill you should be so proud of." I shot him a look, trying to tell him to shut up. At least until I could work out what's going on. I sighed, addressing the guard again. "So. He chose to become a golem rather than..." It's not the first time prisoners had chosen to come to me, so I'm pretty sure I've guessed correctly. The chains are a little bit of a giveaway.

"Execution my Lord." The guard said as he passes me several different keys. "I'd prefer to have finally gotten a rope round his neck but he declared he was volunteering before we got that far."

"What can I say, my timing is fucking perfect."

"Just leave him to me." I said when the guard twitched again. He bows to me and stomped out with one last hard glare at the brand, to which he just smiled and tossed him a cheery farewell.

I wait till the footfalls had completely faded before speaking. "A pity self preservation isn't as strong in you as your pickpocketing skills. Were you trying to make him kill you?"

"Nah. He wouldn't have killed me." His grin was wide, smug. "He's not allowed to. King's orders. The survival of the Thaigs is more important than settling grudges."

"I won't accept anyone who's not willing."

He laughed and I waited till he was quite done. "Look Smith. They see me down in Dust Town again, they won't bring any of us to you any more. Won't trust you, it'll just be a quick step off the sodding block for us."

"You are aware that this is still death, in a way?"

"Course I fucking know that, least I'll be doing something useful instead of rotting down into mushroom fertiliser." He cocked his head to one side suddenly serious and his gaze was piercing. "Will you still pay me?"

"You won't exactly need coins." I pointed out, what was he going to spend them on?

The look he gave me conveys more than any amount of words could suggest that I'm being an idiot. "Not for me." He said slowly. "I know a couple of parents who got tossed back to the dust for birthing or siring the wrong gender babe. It'll feed them and their littles for weeks if they're careful."

I walked over to the wall and unhooked a slate. "Give me their names, I'll get it to them."

The silence stretched for a long moment before he apparently decided he may as well comply. It's only three names and I made a note to send coin to each of them instead of split it. It wouldn't exactly hurt my stash of gold, I'd amassed a fair fortune in just a few years.

"You." I said carefully. "Are far cleverer than you're showing."

I caught a startled look on his face before he smoothed it back off, the bright smile back as if nothing had happened. "Me? Nah, just a regular duster here." And with that he was back to his lighter tone.

He didn't know it, but he'd just volunteered himself to the frame I was working on. My second metal test.

"We're back." Shayle announced as she trots through the door, Astin a few paces behind her, his arms loaded with metal scraps. "Shit." Her blade was out and pointing at Zaranaad before I could reply to her greeting.

"Don't mind me." The brand said, backing away from the irate warrior.

"Shayle! He's in chains, what exactly is he going to do?" I admired her protective streak but sometimes it just was not necessary.

One finger raised. "About that."

Okay, so I may have spoken too soon. I check I still had the ring of keys on my belt, despite him not getting close enough to possibly have swiped them. "Partially in chains." I amended. 

Zaranaad gave me another of his grins and waggled his no longer behind his back fingers. "I did say my lockpicking skills were quite good."

I gave Astin a look, he'd been studiously ignoring us all, pretending to be nothing more than a mindless golem while I'd got unknown company. I doubt he's going to be of any help. Shayle was still growling and the blade is not back in it's sheathe yet. I didn't have the energy to deal with this.

"Shayle stand down. You, divest yourself of the rest of those chains. Astin, bring that over here so we can go through it later." I returned to my anvil and resolutely picked up one of the last pieces of the second steel golem. I was beyond caring if they were actually obeying me or not. 

"Pretty."

"Stone preserve!" One day I would actually do myself some proper damage when anyone did that to me. "What is it with people and creeping up on me?"

"Habit." He said with a shrug. "The scary warrior went to get food, apparently It's enough to stop me from doing anything to you." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

I snorted. "His name is Astin, and the scary one is my wife." I pointed at the armour. "What do you think?"

"Very shiny." He ran a finger down one giant arm. "I don't think there's this much good metal in all of dust town combined."

"Well, I hope you like it, the metal is silverite with red steel accents, it's to be your new home and it's not like I have a different metal frame just lying around."

I'd managed to shock him as it took a while before he answered me. "Well, that's certainly an upgrade from stone."

An upgrade. That's one way to put it.

=====

The silverite worked even better than steel. It was worth every coin I had to spend on acquiring so much of it. The thrum of lyrium was stronger than in Astin. Still distorted, meshed with something that I can only conclude is a golem thing, but strong. It'd need testing but I would probably be able to find him anywhere in the Thaig, it's that clear.

And he certainly seemed happy enough as he tramped round my forge, getting used to his new body. "So, what's this control rod the guards were going on about?"

"Right here, if anyone asks." I held the rod up, the usual warmth was present in the metal but there's no zap of energy tingling just below the surface.

"If anyone asks?" His eyes flickered, a brief change in the bright gaze and somehow, I think he was narrowing his eyes at me, if one could attribute a similar expression onto a much less mobile face.

"Yes. If anyone asks you about it, tell them I have it." I rolled the small bit of metal between my hands. "What I'd rather you not say is that it working correctly is entirely another matter."

He tilted his head to one side and I mentally tell him to stop moving. He stumbled slightly, one hand crashing to the floor. "Now that's just sodding strange." He rumbled as he got back up. "I heard that."

"But it didn't actually compel you?"

"No." He sounded surprised.

I put the control rod back down and moved over to tidy my tools. "I found that stone doesn't keep enough of the intelligence to operate alone, the control rod is vital. Steel channels the magic better, therefore, enough intelligence survives that you don't need the rod. Astin was my first steel volunteer, how I found out it works far better than stone."

"And you thought a casteless brand was the best dwarva for the next test?" His metallic chuckle rolled round the forge. "You're awfully trusting Smith." Zaranaad said as he came to stand near enough to watch what I was doing. "I could crush you by accident."

I waggled the hammer I was holding at him. "Doubt it, who'd repair you if you scratch yourself?"

"I'm sure I could manage to find a Smith competent enough to do that."

I laughed. "Don't look at my apprentices then."

Astin chuckled. "Caridin here, is becoming well known for dismissing apprentices after only a few days."

I huffed. Not my fault most of them were all utterly useless.

Silence fell over my forge as I worked, the thump of feet and occasional curse letting me know that Zaranaad is poking around.

"So you've got a control rod then?"

"Aye, not that the lad uses it."

"No?"

"Not since he tested it."

"Huh."

The silence didn't last long.

"You know, the guard were adamant that golems were just moving statues, yet here I am, still mostly me. And you are there, still mostly you, so how've they not noticed that you speak?"

"I'm the only steel golem. Before you obviously. I only really spoke to the King. Why would the guards know I speak?"

"That makes sense I guess." There was a burst of laughter. "Oh, can you imagine their faces when they realise I'm still here?"

Again silence, for much longer and this time I was just starting to think they will stay quiet.

"Will we be sent out to fight?"

"Probably, when there's enough of us."

"Actually." I put in, pausing my hammering. "Part of the deal I made with Valtor was that I alone could keep some golems for my house. So you can't just be assigned to one of the armies."

"Convenient." Zaranaad said.

"Quite." I said with a bright smile. "I'm rather proud of myself for that contract. He forgot to set a limit on how many I could have."

Zaranaad laughed. "Maybe there's hope for you yet Smith."

=====

I spoke to as many of the volunteers as I could. About whatever topics came up; the war, fighting, crafting, families, anything they seemed interested in. And from them I pulled those I would put into the steel frames. The frames were expensive to make, even more so to hide that they were more than the stone golems were. I didn't choose stupid dwarves though and the sudden ringing silence of my steel legion imitating their stone brethren was often enough to let me know when I had visitors well before they came into range of my hearing. Especially after they started putting a sentry out beyond the doorway. I hadn't even noticed until Shayle let me know what they were doing.

There were almost a score now. Of course that was nothing compared to the full legion of stone golems which had been sent out with one of the armies, and the half a legion more that had been scattered round the outermost Thaigs still occupied by dwarva to help protect them from the group of darkspawn that would find their way to them.

It helped that production had been shifted around. My apprentices scattered around to several forges now they had the knowledge to make the basic frames. It left mine clear enough that I could continue to experiment until we hauled in all the frames that had been created and did transfers all at once. That also meant it left my forge clear of too many prying eyes and ears.

"Garth, Zara, knock it off." I said as I walked across the forge, my eyes on not spilling any of my molten lyrium from the small crucible I was carrying. The air shifting gave me enough warning to stop and brace before the ground trembled. "Idiots." I muttered.

"Ouch." Whoever had just been flipped over my head and hit the floor said after a moment of consideration. "I think I bent something."

"We can bend it back. Come on, another round?" Zaranaad, of course he's encouraging them all. I'd say he's a bad influence, but he was the one working on combat the most.

"No throwing each other till I'm done with this inlay or I'll carve curse words into your backsides." I warned them.

"We need to get out and do something. The younger ones are going crazy."

I let out a long sigh. "I know Kori." Twelve of them were younger dwarva. Six injured warrior caste and one artisan who hadn't wanted to keep being burdens on their kin when they couldn't fight or craft any more and four casteless that had chosen this over death, same as Zaranaad. They were bored here, they wanted to be out and about. Astin, and the older six, four men and two women from across the different castes had a lot more patience, yet even so I could tell they were starting to feel confined. Problem was, I didn't want to go out, especially not fighting. Yet I didn't trust them to the command of the armies.

I finished pouring the lyrium, feeling the snap and hiss of the magic in the blade I was making as the glowing silvery blue metal cooled and set in the lightning runes inscribed down the blade.

"I have a potential solution." I wasn't terribly enamoured by it if I was honest, but Shayle had been very much of the opinion that it was something which was more 'has to be done' than 'should be done'.

"I'm listening." Kori said as she hunched down beside my anvil. Even as the smallest of the Legion, be it by a handspan, (a golem handspan at that), she still towered over me while crouching.

"I received a request. From the Legion of the Dead. They want to start a fortress build."

"And they asked for you?" She sounded surprised. "Why you?"

"Not them specifically, The Assembly passed it onto me. I think it's that I don't just have the lyrium and stone sensing, I've got the mechanical and forge-crafting experience too. And Shayle knows fortresses. Means they don't have to hire a miner, a smith and a warrior and then listen to them argue over the design for weeks."

That got me the now familiar sound of a grating chuckle. "Only for weeks?"

"Months then." I replied to her teasing question.

Another crunch of steel on stone behind me and I pinched the bridge of my nose. Compared to the racket in here, it can't be that bad out there. I mean, sure darkspawn are horrible and I really didn't want to fight anything. But the deeproads I've been in so far were all warm and happy, the lyrium singing to me. I suppose I could survive on dried nug and bronto for a while. I certainly wouldn't enjoy sleeping on the floor, that's nearly enough to make me say no out of hand... Hmmm, I could take a travel cot, I was sure one of them would be happy to carry it, not like it would be bulky or heavy for them. I was getting very tired of them practising their fighting in my forge.

"Oy." Heads turned my way. "We're going to the Six Ways Cavern. I've got a commission of a sort, from the Legion of the Dead." There. Done. Decision made. No backing out now.

"Finally." Garth said as he let Zaranaad out of a headlock that didn't seem to be having much of an effect given the need for them to breath was now non-existent.

=====

Travelling with golems was wonderful. Both my clothes bag, and Shayle's were slung round Garths neck like a strange necklace. My tools are in a bag that Astin had in his arms. Kori had my travel cot slung over her back, and one of my small travelling anvils was being passed round like it weighed nothing and anvil throwing was a new sport. It was more like a long stroll than it was a trek into potentially enemy occupied tunnels.

Shayle didn't seem as happy, she's tense, stalking along beside me and glaring down every intersection like they personally offended her just by existing. "It never stays this quiet." She muttered as we crossed yet another small crossroads.

"Pessimist." I shot back as they were once again empty of anything living. "They've probably scared everything else off. Poor little deepstalkers are probably huddling down and wondering why the earth is trembling."

That gained a quick laugh from her. "Deepstalkers are little shits, then they have the terrible grace to taste foul so you can't even get revenge by eating them."

"They make the best leather though." I pointed out.

"That they... What's up?"

"What?" I said, I hadn't done anything.

"Quiet." Shayle hissed at me, her sword clearing it's sheathe with a crackle and hum of contented flames. I glanced round, realising that the anvil was no longer being tossed over my head and nineteen golems were very firmly focused on the path ahead.

"Movement, and lots of it." Zaranaad said, his head cocked to one side. Of course, they can feel the vibrations through the rock. 

I was shuffled into the centre of our little formation as we moved forwards. "There's a cavern ahead." I could feel the empty area, the absence of lyrium in the area showing up like a huge signpost. I heard the screams first, the further down the corridor we moved. Then the shouting, and the clash of metal and the sound of breaking stone.

"Darkspawn." Shayle said with a grimace. She tugged the front flap of chainmail over her face, leaving just her eyes showing from under the helmet. Which reminded me, I needed to put mine on. I didn't like the thing, it was too heavy. I shoved it on my head, fingers shaking as I buckled up the strap. There's light ahead now, shifting and flickering. The eerie flickering auburn glow of regular fire when I'm used to the silvery blue of lyrium and the green of luminescent algae in the tunnels.

I had no idea what' was going on, the tunnel entrance was well hidden behind a big rock fall from a pillar. Neither side seemed to be aware it was even there, which I suppose I should have been grateful for. I couldn't tell what they're trying to do from just listening. Fall back? Push forwards?

"Darkspawn are pushing in from a crack on one side of the cavern." Garth said, his voice a low rumble.

"Collapse it?"

"Hard to get to."

"Would only take a couple of us though."

"Rest would be better opening a path."

"You stay and guard our squishy creator."

They're stood up and moving before I could ask them what they're doing. I shouldn't complain, it's what I wanted, them to be able to react to new situations rather than continue with old orders, but at that moment it was frustrating to not know what was going on.

"Stay down." I was unceremoniously pulled off the rock I'd stood on to peer over the boulders and I gave Astin a glare that had no effect simply because he was no longer paying me any attention. It's not as if the Darkspawn were looking our way. From the brief glimpse I caught they're rather focused on the steel golems that have just ploughed into their unprotected flank and are leaving a path of bodies behind themselves.

"Move the other way. We're going to find the General." Kori said as she steered me in the direction she wanted me to move. I walked. It's either that or I fear she'd just pick me up like a sack of nugs and haul me to where she thinks I need to be.

There were stone golems fighting, the darkspawn being held back by my creations as the dwarves frantically try to rearrange themselves. "This has to be the western army". I said to Kori. I only knew that because it's the one Sharis and Rico were with and it was at that point the only one with a full stone legion under it's command.

"Aye, General Partik's command." Shayle said from in front.

"Boss." There's a yell ahead of us, "Uh, somebody with golems here. They've got more attacking too."

"Be a little more specific!" The shout back is tinged with annoyance.

Any reply we could have made is covered in the thunder of rocks as the far side of the cavern collapses. Dust billowing up and across the cave. "Smith Caridin." Shayle said into the beat of silence as everybody tried to work out what just happened. "Our golems just took out their passageway into here."

The dwarva I presume is the General tilted his head, eyes half closed and I can see the end of the control rod for his golems gripped in his hand. "Spread the word to push forwards." He said to the dwarf at his shoulder.

The army responded quickly, though I saw no way for them to hear shouting. "The drums." Shayle said in my ear, and I realised that the rhythmic pounding I had been hearing is war drums beating, the sound echoing around us.

"So, you're the ones we have to thank for them. Expected you to be older." The General said as he handed me the control rod. I took it before I realised what he was giving me and then he was already wading through his own army, a huge warhammer coming to rest on his shoulders. "Stay there." Floated back to me and I just blinked.

"What?"

"Current orders, whoever holds that doesn't go into battle." A dwarf said from nearby. "If you're not doing anything get down here and help."

"That makes sense." I said as I passed the rod to Shayle. "Move them if they need to be moved." I wouldn't have a clue what winning looked like. Better she had it and could actually help the battle.

I dropped down next to the dwarf. He didn't look up, just directing me to grab hold of... Oh.

"If you have to be sick, lean the other way." He said, as he grabbed his knife from the nearby fire. As he did I caught sight of his rank tabs which confirm my sudden suspicion and didn't help with settling my stomach. Healing is the one profession that warriors have if they don't want to fight that still commands respect and honour among their caste. 

I closed my eyes. Respect and honour wouldn't help my stomach stay in place.

The scream and the smell of burning flesh as he cauterised what was once a leg and is now missing a foot reminded me too much of creating golems. I wondered if this one will end up as a golem? Probably. I don't know if that's a comfort or not.

The next likely would too. "Hamstrung." The healer said with a grimace as the wounds were bound to stop the bloodloss and try to keep any additional infection from setting in.

The third the Healer shook his head at, his blade slicing into a thigh as I watched. "Gut wound." He cleaned his blade in the nearest fire before we moved on. "Slow painful death, we haven't got time to be carrying the dying, better we give them mercy."

The fourth seemed to be fine, if unconscious and the healer shrugged. "Head wound, he'll wake or he won't."

We kept moving. I'm not the only one that has been recruited, there's plenty of dwarva with what looked to be minor wounds being pressed into service as extra hands.

"Ancestors bless. Those golems of yours are something else Caridin."

I blinked. I looked up from our current patient to find the General staring down at me. "I'll be fine, go on." The healer muttered, waving a bloodied hand at me. Partik hauled me to my feet and I realised the fighting seems to have stopped. I hadn't noticed. I glanced round the cavern, quickly counting until I've seen all nineteen of mine slowly ambling their way back.

"That they are." I agreed.

=====

I settled in a corner of the cavern, trying to avoid looking out over the rest too often. The stories and songs don't try and hide what the aftermath of fighting looks like. I knew there would be blood and bodies. But not a one of those stories spoke of the smell. Nor the whimpers and screams I'd been shutting out earlier.

Shayle was talking to Partik. I was only half listening, the main portion of my focus was on repairing dents in my golems and trying to imagine I was back in my warm, cosy forge.

"...could use them." I frowned at the dent in Garth's wrist, tugging at his thumb until he turned his hand over, a grating sound escaping the joint as he did so. "...heading for Six Ways..." That's going to be interesting to realign. He'd somehow managed to bend the plating so far out of shape its digging into the internal lyrium-metal. "...long enough to secure this place..." Garth actually growled as I dug the sharp end of my hammer into the joint. 

"How did you even do that?" I muttered. "I'm going to need a forge to fix it."

He shrugged. "Can't remember."

I removed my hammer and waved him away. Shayle took the spot before I could call the next one in. "General Partik would like us to stick around until he's got the area secured and he can start an orderly retreat.

"They're retreating?" Why? "We won the battle, shouldn't they be pushing on now?"

"Too many injuries. They were caught by surprise. There's a lot of warriors here who owe their lives to you." She settled down next to me.

"To me?" What did I do? Hold bandages and try not to be sick?

She shook her head, hand waving around the cavern until I follow her gesture and dare a glance out from my sheltered nook. "Golems." She said, and I realised she'd been talking of the stone ones that are even now standing a silent watch around the army.

"Oh." I said. I still didn't like the stone ones, but I suppose they too are worth it.


	10. Of Building

The crossroad, generally referred to as Six Ways, due to the confluence of several different tunnels, was a dreary place. Yet I'd not seen anything so welcoming in several days. We'd been stuck with the army for nearly a week as the nearby tunnels were swept for darkspawn that had broken free of the main group we'd destroyed.

The route we were taking ran over a bridge that I didn't trust. The stone was cracked beneath my feet and there's a clatter as stones bounced off the edge of the gorge wall and down into the chasm below. "I think, we may need to add a new bridge onto the list." I wouldn't be trusting this one to hold up to the weight of golems coming and going. Not that some of the other pathways were any better, there were two barely hewn tracks that run along both sides of the chasm, disappearing off into the darkness, and one tunnel that was small enough the golems would be crouching to get through. There's also more than six passages which makes the name even more ridiculous.

"Don't this look like a barrel of fucking laughs." I tilted my head at Zaranaad as he peered over the edge of the bridge and then jumped up and down. I'll admit I let out a sound that could possibly be called a yelp and near ran to the other end.

"Could be worse." Shayle said with a sly grin as she finished crossing, not looking phased by the crumbling ruin.

"Oh?" I said.

"There could be sodding darkspawn here."

"See, Zaranaad gets it." Shayle said. 

"We won't need darkspawn when we all end up down there when that thing falls down." I muttered with a huff. "Shoddy workmanship."

"It's not going to break." Garth said as he thumped a hand down onto the end and I let out the breath I'd been holding as they all cross. "Yet." He added right as I was finally relaxing.

I created monsters.

"Lord Caridin?" The shout came from the largest tunnel entrance, a fact I was quite happy with. Small passageways didn't bother me, I could feel if they were going to be too small before I got there - it's the grumbling of my entourage about scratched armour I'd happily avoid.

"Smith Caridin!" I yelled back. "I hate being called Lord." I muttered as we made our way over. Not quietly enough apparently.

"My apologies, our communication from King Valtor said 'Lord Caridin' would be coming to aid us with our request." The dwarf, unassuming except for the tattoos over his skull where his hair had been shorn short on the sides, and the badge at one shoulder denoting his position as holding command of the Legion of the Dead, said with a shrug. "I was expecting more of you. We'll be needing someone with good stone sense."

"Technically I am a Lord. I just prefer smith, it's what I am. And I've got the sense."

He stared at me for a long moment before nodding. "Smith Caridin it is then." The passageway quickly opened into a wide cavern and he signaled for the makeshift barricade to be opened wider to fit the Golems through. "Might find some here won't even give you that. Lot of the Dead are here to get away from that shit. I'm Jalrik."

"I won't be offended. This is my Second Shayle." One of his eyebrows raised in surprise at that, though to give him credit he didn't ask. He gestured us both into a slightly sheltered alcove that he appeared to have appropriated as a command centre and planning booth if the maps laid out on the wooden pallet table are anything to go by. "I'm not a fan of politics, gets in the way of my work."

He smiled grimly. "Wish more of the deep lords had that attitude, it's taken us four years to get it through their skulls that holding this position is essential."

"Of course, I'm not too tired to begin work now, if you wish." It's only a vague lie. My body was tired, but my mind was full of ideas for how and where to put a fortress now I was actually here. I stared down at the maps, wishing I understood more about what I was seeing, there were markings on them that had no meaning to me. "I'll need to go and survey this, see what the stone's like. Until then, give me an overview please."

He nodded, pulling one of the maps to the top and I pulled an overturned crate closer so I could sit down and still see.

"I'm going to go settle the golems out of the way." Shayle said.

"You can put them on the perimeter if you want, extra fighters won't go amiss." I kept my reaction to a small hiss of breath and just nodded. Mindless drones wouldn't care about being stuck silently on the edge of camp and they couldn't appear as anything else, not until I know reports won't be sent straight back to the Assembly about them.

=====

I won't bore anyone with the details of why Bownammer needed to be at that position, there's enough maps of the deeproads that anyone could figure it out with enough thought. Suffice it to say Jalrik was very thorough in teaching me about every single road that led to and from this intersection. And he definitely had the right of it, holding at this point would put a stop to any large forces trying to push towards Orzammar.

"I'm going to go examine the stone." I finally said, feeling joints pop as I stretched and ducked out of his nook. "Zaranaad."

"They have names?" Jalrik asked, sounding rather startled as Zaranaad trotted away from the perimeter, his footsteps reverberating around the cavern.

I gave Jalrik a flat look. "If they didn't, can you imagine what would happen if I just yelled 'golem, come here'?"

He rubbed at his neck as he chuckled. "Point taken."

I strode off, uncaring if he was offended by my abrupt departure or not. Zaranaad followed without a word. It felt wrong, even in only a few months of him being in a frame. I'd gotten used to the talkative casteless dwarf and his endless curiosity. Having him play the part of a mindless creation is off-putting. "Think we're far enough away to talk?"

"More than likely." He said as I tapped at the wall, listening to the hum created by the traces of lyrium embedded in it. There was good stone there. It'd make for strong walls. What I also needed is some places that weren't so strong, somewhere to burrow into the rock and carve out the caverns that would serve as a garrison. 

"Can you lift me up?" I was raised onto his shoulders without a protest and I tapped at the rock again, frowning slightly. "Bit to the left." There. It wasn't much but there was a fracture there that would make a good entrance. Put some steps up to it and leave the walls curving round, well, anyone wanting to get in there will have to come through the huge main gates I intended to erect, then fight through an open courtyard and then up a set of stairs no more than two abreast with projectiles raining down on them from the sides.

"I'm done. I just hate you all having to pretend you're just like stone."

I'm lowered back to the ground, touching down with barely a jolt. "I fucking hate it." He said, voice a deep grumble, "it is what it is though." He looked out over the bridge for a moment. "I fucking hated some of the shit I did in dust town too, that really starts to run you down, you know? You think you're done but then somebody has realised you're fucking good at sticking knives into backs and then that's the only sodding jobs they'll offer you. And squishy little me had to eat." He made a noise I think is like a huff, golems don't breathe so I couldn't be sure if I'd read it right. "Guess what I'm trying to say is that pretending to be a statue that moves when you tell me to sodding move is still better than sticking knives into backs."

"I suppose. I still don't like it." I said continuing round the cavern just in case there's a better spot to put an internal door. There's a couple more that might work, but that first one I found still seemed the best option. "Maybe if we're here for long enough we could slowly sort of, ease them into knowing you're not just statues that can be commanded."

"Perhaps." He said before falling silent as we headed back towards the camp.

It sounded like a good plan to me. So slowly they wouldn't even realise that there's anything strange. Then if they've gotten used to them they should hopefully not want to lose them. That last shouldn't be hard - anyone who's seen them fighting wants to keep them around.

=====

The last plan's had been drafted, we're just waiting on a group from Orzammar who'd be doing the mining of the main rooms and passageways. After that the Smiths and Artisans would be able to move in and start to put the finishing touches onto the place and get things such as doors in place.

Until then we'd have to continue to defend the entrance from any attacks, but that's no different from now. There's been several skirmishes at the cavern entrance. I've never been there to see them, but the shouts and drums calling the alarm and then the clash of weaponry have echoed inwards.

I'd been busy, alongside plotting out a keep I'd moved my forge. Or at least, I'd moved my anvil, I could set up a forge anywhere. It's my big anvil that's important. The golems dragged it back for me. They also delivered the notices to my newest batch of apprentices that we would be quartering with the Legion of the Dead for the foreseeable future and any who did not want to make the move are dismissed. I only lost a couple, less than expected. The ones that did travel are getting on with carving out stone frames as if we haven't moved.

The Assembly didn't seem as happy, the terse note I received about moving further into disputed territory was worded in such a way that I am sure I was meant to feel terrible about how hard it was for them to now get volunteers out to my forge. I tossed it into a fire. Not my problem if they couldn't arrange transport and protection - they wanted me to come here in the first place.

I was just shifting tools around at the moment, one of my golems packed some of the ones on the wall in Ortan Thaig into a box and hauled that back alongside the anvil. He even brought my good set, the ones the apprentices knew not to touch. I went through a curious period of wanting to know if tools could be altered in any way by enchanting. Is there for example a difference in using a fire enchanted hammer as opposed to a regular non magical one when creating weapons and armour.

The answer to that by the way; is do not use a fire enchanted hammer to work on ice rune items. It doesn't end well.

I picked that one up, rubbing my thumb over the runes. It does help with steel golems though, the fire imbued in the hammer keeping the metal malleable for just a touch longer, it lets the fine work be done without as much rushing.

The sound of the drum made me pause, the booming sound echoing down the passage and round the cavern. Around me the members of the Legion of the Dead had weapons and shields in hands before the first note had died away, they werere sprinting for the exit before the second beat had faded.

I was going to be so glad when the first section of the fortress was up, the front gate and courtyard and inner gate were to be the priority for the builders. The rest could be completed at a more leisurely pace, once we had a door to keep the darkspawn out. I certainly wouldn't miss the call to arms that often broke up the day.

"Caridin, 'ware!"

I turned at the shout, eyes widening when I meet the startled gaze of a darkspawn that's just been seen when it was trying to creep up on its prey. It snarled, blackened teeth baring in a parody of a smile as a rust caked sword stabbed forwards. I backed up, swiping at the sword with my arm, anything to stop it from being buried in my guts. The clang and warm hum surprised me. I'd forgotten I was holding my hammer. The darkspawn is equally as surprised, stumbling back from the burst of flames with a whining yelp. It didn't have time to do anything else as I swung the hammer round and brought it down on its head. If I could dent metal with this I knew I could break a skull.

Its sword clattered to the ground, the body following a moment later with a dull thump. 

"We all clear?" A voice shouted from down the passage. "There were genlock trying to sneak past us."

"Aye, clear." Another, closer voice replied. "We got them."

"Y'kay Smith?" I tore my gaze from the remains of the corpse, the head nearly unrecognisable, to look at the tattooed visage of one of the Legion as he cleaned his sword.

"Yes. I'm fine. Just fine." I need to go... I need... I let my hammer drop and took a few strides towards an unoccupied corner before I was sick.

So glad I wasn't born a warrior, is the only thing going through my head as I accepted a water canteen from the Legionnaire who dangled it over my head before disappearing.

I also really wanted the first wall and door in place.

=====

I do believe I wasn't the only one who wanted that wall up. It wasn't unusual in the following weeks to see a mix of crafts working together. My golems alongside Legionnaires and the smith and artisans. It was done far sooner than was expected. Of course, it's nowhere near complete. For now the door is only two dwarf lengths high and just a placeholder. The final product will be so huge that it will require mechanics to open.

It was a good omen for the arrival of a group from Orzammar. They'd be able to see how things are coming along. I on the other hand wanted any news from the capital.

"You came all the way out here so stop playing games and talk Meino." I stopped short of Jalrik's partition that he uses as an office before backing as quietly as I could around the corner. I've found that he's one of those officers that looks upon anything; be it mischief from his troops, or darkspawn getting creative, with a weary resignation and unassailable calm. It made the low voiced demand a lot more menacing.

"How have you got your hands on golems?" Oh, just the voice I wanted to hear. That's made my morning that has.

"Pardon." I could imagine the lifted eyebrow and polite smile. The one recruits learn quickly to avoid at all costs.

"You've been see fighting with golems Aeducan. Don't try and deny it." I could also imagine the pursed lips and narrowed eyes.

"So that's what this is about. Why is it a problem if we are?"

"We didn't assign you any, so where did they come from?"

"They're Caridins. They're protecting him. That my men are in the same place doing the same thing is entirely coincidence. Except for the whole Caridin is in charge of the fortress planning so why wouldn't I make use of his Legion while he's here."

"How many does he have? The reports we've had are more than just the few I know he keeps round to help in his forge."

"Do I look like I keep track? Why don't you ask him instead of bothering me." Thanks Jalrik. Thank you so much.

"I will."

I waited for the sound of footsteps to die away completely before easing my way round the corner again and past the fabric. "Now sounds like the perfect time for a trip." 

"Heard that did you?" Jalrik asked as he poured himself a drink. He waggled the bottle at me and I nodded.

"Most of it." I admitted.

"Well, at least I don't need to warn you he's here."

"No. He's announced himself quite well." I sighed, taking the chipped mug I was offered and sniffing curiously. The alcohol choices could be quite varied depending on trade so it was always an adventure to drink with the Legion of the Dead. "I'll put it off a while, but I suppose the sooner I speak to him, the sooner he might leave. Before I get the urge to rearrange his nose again."

Jalrik coughed, giving me a reproachful look as he moved his mug away from his lips. "You're the one that broke his nose?"

I smiled, rather proudly. "Certainly did."

He shook his head and I took another sip of what was actually a decent moss wine. "Didn't know you had it in you."

"It was the element of surprise and the stone's blessing. Also, Aeducan?" I hadn't realised he was a noble at one time.

"Meino has a terrible memory. Dead men don't need houses and he tends to forget I'm dead. Strange that; I recall my funeral was very well attended." I could recognise a deflection when I heard one. I suppose he's allowed his secrets.

"That's just a weird thing to say."

He laughed. "Should have heard us trying to explain it to a couple of humans that came down, Wardens they were, doing their last stand, they couldn't get their heads round it either."

"You get humans here?" I'd never seen them before. 

"Occasionally. Wardens go into the deep roads to die, easiest way in is through Orzammar. We'd be fools to turn them away, every extra body against the darkspawn is good."

"True enough." I couldn't argue with that.

"Got something I've been meaning to ask you." Jalrik said as he topped off the mugs. "Your golems, the steel ones, they're properly alive aren't they?" I choked on my mouthful of wine, coughing to clear my throat. Jalrik nodded, a smirk pulling one side of his mouth upwards. "Thought so."

"What gave them away?" I finally asked once I was able to talk again.

"I'm not sure." He hummed thoughtfully, swirling the wine in his mug. "Little things mainly." He tapped at the sheet pinned onto his desk, a map of the proposed layout and the surrounding tunnels. The sections that have been finished have been copied over in a darker ink. "I did the rounds as the main wall went up, kept thinking I heard them talking when they stood watches, but they'd always be too quiet when I got there". A light shrug. "And I saw you talking to them, always far enough away nobody can hear, but I noticed you always seem to wait before they obey you. The stone golems the army bring through don't answer back when they're given orders."

"I'll let them know you're aware of them. You might regret that though. I chose them for their intelligence and honour, not their attitudes."

"I've got plenty of smart mouthed dusters in my legion, I'm sure I'll survive.

I coughed. "If you say so." I wouldn't want to spoil Zaranaad's fun.

=====

I managed to avoid Valtor for nearly a full day before he found me. I was trying to hide by having my meal with some of the Legion of the Dead, unfortunately I hadn't told them I was hiding. They were only to happy to point my location out the to King when he asked.

"We need to talk, kin-brother." Valtor said as he crossed his arms and stared down at me.

"Far be it for me to deny the King what he wants." I said as I stand from the bench and sweep into an exaggerated bow, internally smirking at the quick flash of annoyance before his charming smile returns. He was still bitter about me being raised to be a Paragon, ever since then he'd been using using familial terms to address me. Except when in the presence of my sister I took great pleasure in refusing to respond in kind and instead remind him of his rank compared to mine. "Let us find somewhere a little more private."

That private place turned out to be my forge. The apprentices couldn't have left that long ago, the embers of the banked fires were still glowing and the oil in the lantern I lit was still warm. I pulled myself up to sit on a workbench, gesturing for him to speak.

"How many golems do you have?"

He must be tired if he's cutting straight to the point. If he's wasn't going to be aggravating I could be succinct as well. "Twenty two."

"That." He let out a breath, visibly calming himself. "You have no need for that many, some will be reassigned to the armies."

"No." I said, crossing my arms and leaning forwards. "You let me have as many as I wanted."

"I did not." He disagreed, anger flashing over his face and I can see his fists tighten at what he more than likely construes as me being difficult to spite him. Which I actually was, however I was also not wrong.

"Oh but Valtor, you did." I smiled. "Third page, fourth paragraph of my contract with the Assembly on the construction and distribution of golems. Recorded by the Shaperate before the Assembly as witness."

My smile didn't leave as he stalked off. Nor did it leave my face as I waved his party out the gates and into the tunnels. No doubt he'll go straight to the Shaperate when he's back in Orzammar. I'd have loved to be there to see his face when he found the records. Ah well, I'd just have to be content with imagining it.

=====

"What are you doing?" I asked as Zaranaad trots past with a positively huge axe over his shoulder. It's a giant double headed crescent, entirely unsuitable to fight with.

"Testing things." He said as he slows to a stop, planting it onto the ground. It's nearly as tall as him.

"Testing... Things?" I repeated. Unsure if I should be aware what these unspecified 'things' are.

"Traps." He said, hefting it back up and onto his other shoulder. "Jalrik's idea. For some of the back passages. If the darkspawn break through by tunnelling at any time, they'll run into these."

"This I have to see." I said as I gestured him to continue. "When did you start taking orders from Jalrik?"

"Technically it was a request. I like him though. Treats all of us the same." Zaranaad said as he shortened his steps so I wasn't having to jog alongside him to keep up.

"You got it? Oh, Caridin, excellent. You can come give me a hand." Jalrik said, his tone bright and not at all concerned about his current location.

"Do I have to?" I didn't have a death-wish and that is exactly what the Legionnaire commander appeared to have today. Well, he had everyday with how he fought, but that's a different thing entirely.

"Just get up here. I could do with a hand that's not giant." I sighed. Guess I get to balance on a golems shoulder and fix an axe to a ceiling. Not what I was intending on doing with the rest of my day.


	11. Of Fighting

I ran through the half hewn tunnels of Bownammar, the place is still not finished and won't be for a long time, but at least the basics have been completed on the inside now. The passageways are made, further rooms are marked out in chalk on the rock. The more urgent rooms are being done first, healing quarters, offices, bathing rooms, a kitchen. And of course the main wall and door are fully complete. For all the good that does right now. The bridge further down the chasm finally decided to collapse. We knew it was going to go eventually and had plans to create a new bridge directly across the chasm from the gates of Bownammar so that any enemies crossing the bridge would do so under fire. Those plans had to be moved up to a priority and the darkspawn haven't been slow in realising we were working outside the fortress. The Legion of the Dead have had to pull back a lot of patrols, it's no easy task to protect both the workers and the giant pulley systems they need to use to get the huge blocks of rock into place without the entire bridge collapsing.

I careened round the last door frame and into the healing room, my eyes sweeping over the beds. I waved off a healer who tried to stop me and get me to a bed. "I'm fine." I said, waving a hand at them. They took the hint, leaving me be to go attend another. The worst off are already here. I'd sent them with the golems, the rest of us came back under our own power.

There. I find the dwarva I was looking for and strode over, kneeling beside the pallet.

"You did get out then. Good." The words are slurred, his eyes are wide despite the bright lamps and not able to focus for too long. Blood moss poisoning. Shayle had drilled me well on the plants and animals found in the deeproads. That was one not to be touched. It shuts down organs and causes a slow death in large amounts. It was used by the warrior caste for bad injuries as it also removed any pain. If they get back to you before the poison is too far along there is an antidote. In this case, I have a feeling he's too far down the list of injuries. I had become well aware of just what the word triage meant to the warrior caste and the Legion of the Dead while out here.

"Aye. I need to go deal with a few things. You get some sleep, you'll need it to get your strength back." He hummed softly, his eyes already falling closed again as I pushed myself up from the cot.

"He's not going to survive is he?" I asked one of the healers who was splinting an arm.

"Not likely. He took an axe to the gut."

That settled that then.

"Whoever is at the door, I need you." I could see the edge of a steel coloured leg at the door, they could make themselves useful. "Grab the General, we're heading for my forge."

I didn't need to say any more. I just had to hope he'd survive the trip down there.

=====

"Oh, you're sodding kidding, you're taller than me! And bulkier. I wonder if he can do upgrades?" That's Zara but who's taller? Zaranaad's the biggest of my golems.

"Where is he anyway?" I didn't recognise the voice. Why didn't I recognise it?

"Still asleep. He keeled over as soon as he finished with your transfer." Ah. Transfer. I must have done that. I was clearly just too tired to try and remember and my head hurts.

"It can't have been that long, since then?" Exactly, so let me sleep.

"Nearly half a day, you were very close to death. Like, had stopped breathing right before he started the transfer sort of close to death. He wasn't sure if the it was going to take." Huh, well. Whatever. Didn't feel like that long. Previous statement still applied. Let me sleep.

"Well, I feel... Fine? Not that I know what good is meant to feel like." Good is shutting up so that your Creator can sleep.

"You'll know if you need repairing. It's not pain, more a pinching sensation around whatever is out of place." There'd be something out of place when my hammer was tossed at your loud metal backsides.

"Huh, in that case, I feel good." There's the high pitch noise of metal being scratched over metal and the thump of heavy feet. Reassuring sounds. Also very loud sounds. I pulled the pillow out from under my head, idly wondering where a proper fluffy pillow came from and rolled over.

The floor was hard.

I ignored the muffled laughter as I untangled myself from the blanket and crawled back onto the narrow cot, wrapping myself back up with a shiver at the cold air. "Go away." I grumbled, pulling the pillow over my head. "And shut up. I still have to sleep."

=====

"Good morning." I blinked, squinting in the light at the golem guarding my door. "Actually, if you want to be technical, it's good afternoon, since the noon bell was rung a while ago."

"You're a golem." I said, frowning at him as I pulled the blanket tighter round my shoulders.

"Yes." The tone suggested I'm missing something.

"How did you become a golem?"

"You..." He dropped to one knee, one arm circling round me when I leant back a little too far. "Caridin, are you well?"

I stared at him a little more. "My head hurts. I'm too cold. I think I might be sick." I gave up and leant on the metal hand that's round my shoulders. "And you're a golem."

"Lets get you back to bed."

I nodded. "Sounds like an excellent plan."

=====

I had no idea if that plan was carried out. When I was next coherent it was to find myself wedged between a golem and Shayle. The metal I was curled round turned out to be a knee and I used it to pull myself up into a sitting position.

"Urgh."

"Yes. I quite agree, you fucking idiot." Zaranaad said mildly as I continued to cling to his knee. "You're sodding lucky the blade that nicked you was poisoned not tainted."

"Poisoned?" I repeated, frowning as I tried to sort out what was going on.

"Do you remember any fighting?" He asked. "Down the west tunnel, we went to clear a rock fall." He prompted when I just stared at him.

_Boulders had tumbled down from the roof, smaller rocks spilling out from the wall. It wasn't a big fall, but we didn't want it getting bigger and potentially blocking one of our quickest routes for getting stone blocks to the under construction bridge - it's nearly a three day detour for the next quickest route. I'd been busy in the gash left in the wall, testing the material behind to work out how best to fix the damage so it wouldn't just come straight back down again. Then shouts. A scream. Thuds and curses. The screech of darkspawn. One of the beasts glaring in and a spear being thrust at me before it was ripped out of the hole by a metallic frame._

"Yes." I glanced down at myself. "I didn't realise anything had hit me." There's a bandage on my left arm, just above my elbow and I poked at it. It didn't seem that painful.

"And this is why the healers look over everybody. Even a tiny scratch can be lethal."

"I thought they were just being dramatic." I muttered even as my brow furrowed, "besides I had to transfer Jalrik."

Zaranaad laughs. "Remembering him now are you, he was most put out when you kept asking why he was a golem."

"I did?" Oh, yes, I think I remember that now.

"You might want to wake Shayle, she's refused to leave you since we realised you were ill."

I turned round, regarding her for a moment before I poked her arm and leant back. Nothing happened. I repeated the process. She went from sleeping to crouching, a knife in her hand and I waggled my fingers at her. I had no idea how she did it but as long as she's in a proper bed she would wake up like a normal person. If she slept on the floor she'd awaken like she's surrounded by darkspawn. Of course I learnt that the hard way, still have the scar on my collarbone from where the tip of her sword caught me when I didn't back up quickly enough.

"Caridin!" The knife vanished. "You idiot."

"Mmmm, Zara already said that." I said into her hair as she dragged me into a hug.

"Maybe you'll listen to us then." She said, her grip tight enough that I feared she'd leave bruises.

I just let her hold me. I wasn't making any promises I couldn't keep.

=====

"Next time when I tell you to duck, do me a favour and get out of the way."

The silverite plated golem walking quietly behind me ducked his head like a scolded nug. "Yes Caridin." I knew full well he wasn't sorry, not even one bit. Zaranaad snickered from my other side and I sighed. I didn't know why I bothered some days.

Everything had turned into a nice routine. I oversaw forge work and building progress. Sneak in some work on my next steel frame. If I'm lucky I'd find time to eat and sleep. And in between that my steel golems have taken to patrolling outside of Bownammar with the Legionnaires and I'd accompany them as a healer. Transferring Jalrik may have been the best thing I'd done yet, for all that it was rushed. He took over without anyone realising, or perhaps caring, that he was doing so. I know Zaranaad was glad to hand over the responsibility of being in command.

"You're all going to be the death of me." I said as I regarded the crossbow bolt jutting out of Jalrik's shoulder joint. One of my bolts to be precise.

"Not on purpose." Zara said as we entered the cavern I'd claimed as a work space. We're about a day out from Bownammar on a long patrol and this is as good a staging ground as we ever seem to get.

"I don't know, I might just step on you one day." The former commander of the Legion of the Dead adds.

"Then how would your fortress get finished?" Technically not his Fortress any more but the point still stood. He's the one who commissioned it in the first place and worked with me on the layout.

"With pure luck and lots of guessing?" He said as he sat on the floor when I gestured for him to do so, letting me climb onto his leg so I can reach the bolt.

I snorted. "That'd be a sight to see." I wiggled the bolt, growling when it remained firmly wedged in place. If it was just in a flat plate I could just leave it in there, apply a bit of heat and melt them together, but no, it had to be in a joint that needed to articulate. "Some of the artisans really don't get along." I added, and that by the way is a lovely understatement. There's a lot of Houses who've put money into this project. One of those where Valtor pledged a large sum and couched it in such condescending words that the rest of the houses felt obligated to try and outbid him lest it appear they want the position to fall. Unfortunately that means the miners, smiths and artisans working on the various areas are sworn to different houses. It's left the building work somewhat fractious now that they're no longer working quickly to get outside defences in place.

"Ha. Send them out to fight the darkspawn and the Legion of the Dead will do the building." He said, reaching out his free hand to steady me when I nearly tumbled off his leg.

"Lie down. I'm going to have to widen the hole to pull my bolt out." He laid back as I jumped down, gathering several tools. "Next time when I tell you to duck, get out of my way."

=====

"It feels strange." Jalrik said, fingers pressing at his shoulder as we trudged back into Bownammar with the patrol. Apart from Jalrik there was no injuries at all. I was looking forward to sleep and to seeing Shayle again. She'd been grounded by the healers who had wanted her to get more rest after she'd wrenched her shoulder. I'd missed her presence at my side.

"Stop that." Honestly. This happens every single repair; they just have to prod at them.

"It's tingly." He said with another poke and roll of his shoulder joint.

I sighed.

"Tingly. Really? And here I thought you forgot all that." Shayle said as she peeled herself off the wall she was leaning on.

"Not that sort of tingly." Jalrik said before shaking his head. "Why am I even having this conversation?" 

I just shrugged. Why are they looking at me, I'd never understood that and I was still flesh and blood.

"Why don't you go and get all tingly." Jalrik said before he stomped off.

"Go fuck yourself! Wait, you can't any more." Shayle shouted after him and I just shook my head, catching her arm and whirling her into an embrace. One day, one of them is going to stand on her and swear it was an accident.

"I'm still not sure whether you're the best second or the worst."

She smirked. "Worst, obviously. But that's fine, because you're the worst Paragon. You sat on the Assembly for one day and walked out on them part way through."

The clearing of a steel throat was loud. Shayle looked up briefly then dropped her head back onto my shoulder with a sigh.

"We didn't even make it into our room. What now?" I asked, refusing to loosen my hold.

"Sorry lad." Astin said, "The next shipment of metal was sent in, I've sorted it all out so it's ready to go."

"We had any more in to be transferred?"

"Two injured in the fighting and three from Orzammar." He said, tactfully ignoring my sigh - we could do with far more than that. "Did I just see you with Commander Jalrik?"

"Aye, you did." He could be a hard Golem to track down despite his bulk. He had a habit of being where ever the fighting was thickest when he was flesh and blood; he hasn't really changed since he was transferred. I have no doubt he'll be back prowling the wall before the metal I patched him up with has fully set.

"Has he had any word from the Southern Road?"

Shayle disentangles herself and spits on the floor. "No. We're presuming it lost." I let her pace. "The King's a fool. We told him sending the Black Legion that way wouldn't end well."

I couldn't disagree with her there. The King had decreed that the directing of the Golems would fall to the King and Assembly, with the control rods being held by the Shaperate when the golems are not out in the deeproads to avoid them being used by houses to fight each other and by a General when they're in combat. A very sensible precaution for both ends. Except the Assembly don't always make the best decisions on where to send their armies.

I reached out an arm, snagging Shayle as she paced past me. "Astin, could you stop anyone else coming in here?"

Astin tilted his head, "Is that a request or an order?"

"Just a request."

He bowed, an over the top thing of screeching metal, "as you wish oh great and grand creator."

The flimsy door was shut ever so gently after I dragged Shayle through the gap and I let out a long breath of relief. With Astin settled in front of the door, unless there's another darkspawn incursion somewhere nearby, no one would dare disturb us.

I was looking forward to a good nights sleep in a warm, comfortable bed in a secure fortification. I always slept better with Shayle there. I knew if anything happens she'd be up and awake to protect us both.

=====

Indeed, a Golem is a deterrent to everything except another Golem and I groaned as heavy footsteps entering the room indicated Astin had failed in his task. Which meant it must be something urgent for him to let anyone pass with nothing but a quiet exchange of words. I reached out a hand, blindly fumbling for the lamp and the fire-striker. The red and silver plating as the wick catches is a give away to the intruders identity. I'd only made one with that combination. "Zara. What's wrong."

"We've found the Black Legion."

"What?" The question behind me was loud against my ear as Shayle leant over and hauled herself out of bed before padding around the room collecting her clothing. She was entirely unperturbed by the golems watching. I know that urges of the flesh just don't exist any more, every one of them had said that, yet I still found it unnerving to have a Golem watching us get ready.

"They're still with General Kondrat's command. Apparently they got holed up. General Kondrat ordered one of the golems out to find the nearest allies and to avoid all fighting, the message was more important."

"We are heading out right?" Shayle asked, halfway through shrugging into her gambeson, her voice muffled beneath the fabric.

"Jalrik's already left. Losing a full command and a Legion isn't an option if we have the chance to bring them back."

I was slower with my own armour, even after so long it felt heavy despite it only being dragonbone scales on a leather hauberk, nothing like the full metal plates Shayle was getting herself into. She batted my hands away from the last buckles on my armour, doing them up and then turned so I can cinch in the straps on hers that she has trouble reaching. "I'm ready." I had my hammer, it's a warm, heavy weight in one hand that feels right and my crossbow which I rarely use but Shayle insisted I always take with me. Both Shayle and the Legion of the Dead had tried to teach me sword work before giving up.

"Hop up." Zara leant down and offered his arm and I scrambled up, awkwardly ending up against one hip the same way I'd seen my sister carrying Getha.

"Shayle?" I couldn't see a thing as the lantern is closed, the small flame petering out and I blinked, waiting for my dark-sight to kick in.

"I've got her." Astin said from behind me and I caught a flash of his eyes glowing before Zara's bulk blocked my view.

Travelling by Golem was not fun, but it was a ground eating pace compared to how fast we could run on our own and we're quickly caught up to the main portion of the Legion who must have set out as soon as they received word. The thud of steel feet against rock was loud. The darkspawn would know we were coming. If we're lucky they'd be just intelligent enough to realise that we're going to be their death and run. The screeching of darkspawn in a panic was indeed what greeted us as we broke out onto the edge of a chasm, a river of lava winding below us.

"Stay back." Zara said, depositing me on a high ledge and I nodded. Shayle settled down beside me, her eyes flicking over the battle raging down the slope curving down to the lava. The darkspawn seemed to be massing not too far down, shrieking at each other.

"The Black Legion's holed up in a cave." She said. "The 'spawn have to turn to face us, at which point Kondrat's forces can have at their flank, or they can keep trying to get into the cave and we'll charge straight through." I could see that, now she'd pointed it out and I nodded. There's nothing more for me to do than watch the flow of battle, I was here mainly as a healer. A golem healer that is.

Shayle called it correctly. The darkspawn turned to face the new threat, and Kondrat rallied, the flank nearest the cave entrance just collapsing as his stone golems crush the exposed sides. It didn't take long for the rest of the darkspawn to either die or retreat down the slope, shrieking and snarling.

I'm not sure what drew me to look around, a hint of something. Of twisted shadow and dark, a sickness, like a raging spark in a sea of calm. I swung my crossbow off my back, hauling the string back and setting a bolt in place. Shayle ducked down beside me, eyes scanning for whatever had caught my attention. I didn't have the time to point it out. My crossbow made a solid thunk as I fired, recoiling into my shoulder with a jerk. I smiled grimly as the darkspawn fell to it's knees, staff falling from its hand. I had enough time to feel the spark of wrongness I was focusing on to snuff out, then the world is dark. And bright. I gasped, drawing a breath in that hurt. 

Why am I on the floor?

I drew in another breath, the air burnt, the scent of smoke and ash tingeing it.

"Caridin!" I blinked at the familiar face above mine. Silverite forever moulded in a grim smile and the scar that has twisted and melted what was a chunk of the carved nose. I should probably respond to him. All I managed was a strangled wordless sound of pain. "Stone forsake them." Jalrik muttered as he scooped me up. Not the first time I'd travelled away from a battle site by Golem, I didn't remember it being quite as nauseating the last few times. 

"Where's Shayle?" I managed to rasp out, the sudden lack of my constant companion hitting me.

"She's fine." Jalrik said, twisting suddenly, hissing at the clatter of a projectile sliding off his armour. "She's not the one who got themselves blown off a ledge. You're lucky you got wedged on a lower section."

Oh. So that's what happened. That explains quite a bit. At least my vision was clearing up, that would help. Not that I need my eyes to navigate the deep roads themselves, but darkspawn aren't filled with lyrium, it made them a little harder to sense when they were creeping round.

"We told you to stay back for a reason. You're a lot squishier than us." I never thought a Golem could sound so exasperated.

"There was..." I closed my eyes, trying to think, "an emissary."

"We'd seen it." For a moment there's an abrupt lack of gravity before it reasserts itself with a thump that rattles my spine.

"It was aimin' at the slope you were all on, it was already overhanging, it'd have crumbled away. You'd have all gone into the abyss." Sure Golems are strong, but a river of lava tends to destroy even them rather quickly.

There's a long silence, broken only by the jarring thud of his footsteps and the blur of passing rock. "Better us than you." He finally said as he slid to a stop. "We're replaceable." There's no bitterness in his voice, just a weary acceptance. I clung to his leg when he set me down, the world still refusing to remain on one plane. Still, I could see enough to know we're back behind the main lines.

"Stay here." He said, one steel finger jabbing at the ground beside me before he peeled me off his leg and propped me against a wall which I cling to instead.

"Master Caridin!" One of my apprentices appeared beside me, guiding me towards the small healing station they've got set up. It's a little limited for us that are still flesh and blood, most of the space taken up by smaller anvils and a makeshift forge. I sunk down on the bedroll and drunk the flask that was handed to me, some weird mix of deep mushrooms and surface weeds, but it does the job as my breathing eases. I'm pretty sure my armour took most of the force of that impact, nothing feels broken, just well and truly abused.

"I'll be fine." I waved him away. I'm injured yes, but not an invalid, I didn't need anybody hovering over me.


	12. Of Endings

My Legion were a sight to behold. Their armour glinting in the light being thrown around. One of the front rank goes down, silver blue electricity playing over his plating and I could imagine that the darkspawn emissary thinks he's got him. He was probably still thinking that as he wass crushed between golem and wall.

Shayle shifted beside me, her uneasiness making me give the large cavern another look, but I saw nothing of any concern, the Legion had pushed the darkspawn back, forcing them to mass at the entrance to the hole they had dug. We were clearly winning this engagement.

A hand hooked into my belt and yanked, throwing my balance off, the scrape of metal down the front of my cuirass let me know how close a blade had just come to embedding itself in the gap that I have between helm and chestplate. Shayle stepped forward, releasing me at the same time and the darkspawn just dies. I didn't even see what she did and I'd trained with her, so it didn't have a hope. Her armour is far heavier than mine and her reflexes are to stick it first, then ask questions.

"Genlock scout." She snarled, voice muffled inside her helmet, "more than likely sent to try and assassinate the only non golems on the field."

"That would be us then." I said with a bland tone.

"Stay sharp, where there's one there's usually more." Easy for her to say, she seemed able to pick up on the tiniest scuff of a footfall, I couldn't hear anything in the ridiculous helm they insisted I wear. I pulled my hammer from my belt, trying to listen for the sounds that indicate I'm being crept up on.

In the end I didn't need to. Shayle noticed them first and whirled into action, her blade flashing out with grace and an uncanny precision to leave another three dead or dying.

I took another step back, feeling the reassuring solidness of stone behind my back. They couldn't get round behind me if I was against a wall. The uneasy feeling didn't abate. "Shayle..." I couldn't find what's worrying me.

"What?" Shayle said, backing up so she's next to me.

I tugged a glove off and pressed a hand against the nearest wall, focusing.

Space where there shouldn't be space.

"They're not here to assassinate us, they're here to distract us."

Fractures, crumbling, falling. 

"Down!" There was a sickening flash above my head, then a wash of heat that I felt even through my armour and padding as the rock around us screamed. Then silence. The ceiling of the cave came into focus first. I had to get back up. Staying on the floor is tantamount to being dead when there are darkspawn around. I rolled over, my arms shaking as I pushed myself to my knees. The floor shook again, another rumble echoing around me that I felt more than heard. The wall isn't where the wall was, the ceiling higher, it is a wonder that the ground was still the same, firm beneath me and humming as it always was.

"Caridin." Feet slid to a stop beside me, showering small stones away. "We've got to retreat, seems they figured if they can't kill us, several tons of fucking rock burying us will at least stop us from fighting." The voice is faint and I shook my head, trying to clear my ears enough to stop the ringing that's drowning him out. "Don't be stubborn, we can't beat a sodding cave in." The cavern is still swaying slightly as I grabbed the offered finger. I hadn't been meaning to disagree, being buried sounds like a terrible plan. I opened my mouth to tell him that, except the cave was tilting even more. Was it already falling?

"Awake again are you?" What? Who? Zaranaad... I wasn't with the Ancestors then. That's good. "Stop squirming, do you want me to drop you? We're nearly back, you passed out for a bit." I huffed, letting myself relax into the arms wrapped around me. I really need to talk to them about hauling me around like a sack of nugs. It's rather embarrassing to keep being returned to Bownammar like this. "Here, try not to move till somebody has seen to you." I was deposited at the edge of the healing hall, well out of the way of large feet, and I leant over, trying to will my stomach into not emptying itself as my head pounds away like a war drum.

"Zara, how's Caridin?" I wanted to answer that myself, tell Jalrik I'm perfectly fine, but the more intelligent part of my brain told me that looking up would be a terrible plan right then.

"Just shock I think, maybe a bit rattled, he only caught the edge of the blast." Zaranaad replied, "How's...?

"Not good." Jalrik returned.

"Shit."

There's another set of feet right beside me. "Caridin. You up to forge work?"

I hissed between my teeth. I know he wouldn't ask that if it wasn't urgent. "Find me something to settle my stomach?" I pushed myself up on the wall. "Who needs repairing?" The silence stretched for too long. "Jalrik?"

"Not a repair. Shayle took the brunt of that blast."

No.

"Where?" I reached out, slapping a hand against his leg when he didn't speak quickly enough. "Fuck it Jalrik, where is she?"

He steered me back out the door, down familiar corridors, towards a pallet at the entrance to the passage down to the anvil. Where they took anyone too badly injured in case I could 'save' them. I'm handed a flask on the way and I tossed it back without checking the contents, letting the glass shatter on the floor. Whatever it was, my head was clearing.

She wasn't awake, a small mercy, as the blood on her lips let me know there's damage I couldn't see. Her breathing was rattling, the sound wet and rasping. I cup her face, staring because this couldn't be happening.

"You have spoken about...?" Jalrik asked quietly.

There's no need for him to continue, I knew what he was asking. "Aye. She's already agreed to be..." I couldn't continue the sentence. He nudged me aside, cradling her in his arms and set off on the long walk down to the forge. I stumbled after him, I could deal with my own pain later.

"This isn't one of ours?" Jalrik asked, still cradling Shayle as he looked between me and the stone armour ready on the anvil.

"No." I would have made her a beautiful frame, to match her fiery nature, hard angles and soft curves and a wealth of metals, the colours blending into one another with filigree and gems.

I stumbled to one side, tugging at the metal frame I was working on. It's not complete, only half the parts ready. Large hands take over, moving it to the anvil and I direct them to lay it out, moving the unneeded stone parts away. This will have to do, an ugly construct of stone and metal and I can feel my heart constricting with the knowledge that the stone parts of the frame already have control runes inscribed on it. I think, perhaps, she might prefer to be dead. Despite that, I couldn't stop. She could call me selfish later. I wasn't ready to let her go. There's metal enough there that I'd still have some part of her.

=====

At first I thought I waited too long. Yet Zaranaad told me that Jalrik took a while to wake too and he was transferred with barely any life left. It made the waiting harder. I had them move the frame over to one side and I followed, settling down to wait. I'd already given her the same orders I had Astin. That is, none at all beyond acting as they wish. I just had to hope there was enough of her left in there to utilise such an open order.

The twitching of stone fingers is what drew my attention first. Then the first clumsy movements before she sat up, hands splayed on the ground. That's a good sign. That she could move without having to be ordered to do so.

"Awake are you?" I couldn't bring myself to be anything but neutral until I know for sure that she's still there.

"I am." The rumble is as dark and deep as any of the golems and that hurt, to hear her light voice, always so full of life reduced to that. She pushed herself to her feet, towering over me.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"Shayle Cadash." She spoke slowly, as if she's not entirely sure.

"Not everyone remembers." I admitted, as if the admitting itself could cause her to forget things.

She froze, eyes bright as she stared off into the distance. "I remember." She said slowly, lowering herself down, one hand reaching forwards until she's level with me. "I remember."

I step closer, running a hand over the metal plates on her face, over the stone helm. I should have said this before. I should have done so many things before. "I love you." 

=====

I thought at first it was fine.

Yet she wasn't the same. She...

No. I cannot, even after all this time bring myself to write about this.

Editorial note. Should any wish to find more information, Shale has written an account of this time. It is as complete as it can be given the memory loss I am told she suffered due to the transferral process and the intervening years. Caridin refuses to say anymore about this time.

=====

The front wall of Bownammar is a long way from the ground, well above the huge door. It would be easy enough to just lean a little too far. The openings at the top are wide enough that when opened they can fit a variety of weaponry through to help fight off a siege. They're plenty wide enough for a single dwarva to fit though. If it wasn't for my very own guardian looming protectively behind me. The thing with Golems is that they aren't silent. And it's hard to be brooding and moody with a warrior weighing more than a lifetime of gold profits hounding your steps. Even more so when they know exactly where my thoughts are running to.

If I'd just had more frames ready. If I'd worked harder. After all, if I'd had more ready then Shayle wouldn't have been lost. For she is lost, the vibrant dwarf that used to perch on my anvil is a stone and steel frame that remembers only vague bits of what she once was. Some things she can agree to without a pause, others she just looks confused, unsure if I'm telling the truth.

I told everyone to get out, staying in my forge and hammering out more frames. I'd be ready next time. I'd never be caught with no frames ready again. My Legion decided they'd had enough of my moping around and hauled me out of the forge after a week or so, it's not as if I could protest. No, that's a lie, I did protest, loudly and very vocally, they just chose to ignore it. So I was carried, kicking and screaming into the mess hall to eat something instead of a servant bringing food into the forge.

Then one of them sat in front of my forge door and nothing I did would get them to move so that I could get in. I even contemplated ordering Astin to drag them aside. Almost. I had the control rod in hand but I couldn't actually give the order. Instead I marched back up to the main part of the fortress and tried to make myself useful. If I was busy I wasn't thinking. The presence of other living dwarves did serve to remind me that I wasn't alone. And just in case I started to backtrack Jalrik had the absolute nerve to assign me a permanent guard. To ensure I didn't get killed, is what he said. To ensure I didn't kill myself, is what went unsaid.

"Want to talk?" My guard today is none other than Jalrik himself and he settled himself down beside me, close enough that he could grab me before I go anywhere. I didn't bother looking up from the leather I'm stitching back together.

"No." I really didn't. "What is there to say anyway?"

He shrugged, metal shifting with a series of clunks. "You're not the only one to have lost somebody you loved." He said.

I set my leatherwork aside so I could glare at him. "I'm well aware of that." I snapped out.

"Then stop acting like a spoilt brat from the Diamond Quarter." He growled back.

I pushed myself to my feet, nails digging into my own palms as I clenched my fingers. How dare he! One hand flattened against the wall above my head, a growl reverberating up and down the corridor. It was enough to stop me from saying whatever I was going to say. Instead my breath left me in a startled yelp as I flinched away from the suddenly too close metal.

He settled into a crouch, giving me a little more space. "Remember what you had, not what is missing and don't make any rash decisions you'll regret."

"How can I not miss her?" I said bitterly. "I'm reminded of her presence every single day. All I have to do is wake up!" 

"Tell me this Caridin, what would she tell you to do?"

I closed my eyes. "She'd tell me to stop being such a fucking idiot and keep on fighting."

"Are you going to listen to her?"

I sighed, "I probably should." I let my head tilt, curious. "What was the rash decision you made?"

Jalrik pushed himself back to his feet, staring down at me for a long moment. "I joined the Legion of the Dead."

He whirled round before I could ask anything else, heading further into the fortress, his footsteps receeding until there's nothing but the faint sounds of the other occupants of Bownammar. For the first time since Shayle was transferred I'm alone.

I should have been happy. It's what I've been asking for.

Seems I didn't really want to be alone.

=====

It hadn't been personal until then. I'd seen the fighting. I'd spoken to those injured. None of it had meant anything beyond numbers and little statues on maps.

Now. I knew what some of those who had come to me to become golems meant when they said they had nothing left to fight for. When they said that the war had taken their partners.

I understood.

I poured my resources into the golems. What need did I have for gold? I'd bleed dry my House acquiring metal. Because I finally got what the warriors meant when they asked what good gold was. It was either use it or leave it for the darkspawn to desecrate.

The number of Golems in my Legion rose sharply as I worked. I pretended not to hear the comments of the other smiths, that I'd gone mad and finally snapped. That I was building an army of my own. They didn't matter. I'd protect Orzammar the only way I could. And yes. I was building an army of my own. Their worries about me heading for Orzammar were for naught. My enemy was the darkspawn and the blight they dragged with them.

If I could make enough golems we could hold them back.


	13. Of Honour

It was finally finished, the great doors rose far higher than any darkspawn could hope to climb and the gap above them was filled with enough stone they'd be chipping away for years. Any weak spots in the tunnels and caverns we had excavated had been filled in and reinforced to stop them digging through. I had no doubts it would stand for a thousand years or more. The defenders would likely fall before the fortress did, though I hope that never proved to be true.

"Are you nearly done? It'll be next sodding year at the rate we're moving before you fucking declare it sodding done." Just for that I took a little longer examining the next set of crenellations on the bridge that reached out across the chasm. The high pitch squeak of metal against metal made me wince, especially how close it was to my ear. Zara looked out over the edge as he casually rubbed at his breastplate.

I glared and he lifted one shoulder in a shrug.

"Fine. You win." I said quickly when he lifted his hand to continue making that racket again.

"Damn right I do." Smug bastard. "Jal said he had something to ask you. And you need to eat." A hand bigger than my head being held up forestalled my denial "I can hear your fucking stomach gurgling salroka."

I threw my hands up, stalking off towards the main door. I swore the entire lot of them were worse than the nagging old hags in the Assembly. Zara followed me like a pet nug and for a brief moment I regretted not having control runes in them so I could order them all away.

I was still eating when we found Jalrik. He waved us into the room, Zara stopped to close the door behind himself with a firm thud and click as he locked it and I looked between the two golems, the last of my bread roll stuffed into a pouch to finish later. Uneasy was hard to show in a metal frame yet that is exactly the emotion I would have suggested for them at that moment. They settled quickly, losing what little tells I had learnt so that I could read them. Golems weren't given to the shifts and quirks of flesh that would often give away how one was feeling.

"Did you know." And there was something so utterly casual in Jalriks tone that I couldn't help but stare at him. "Three of our newest Legionnaires were not volunteers." Lyrium bright eyes stared right back at me, his entire frame still and silent; waiting.

They weren't volunteers? But that couldn't be right. I made sure to ask every one of them if they were sure before we started down to the forge. I wouldn't force anyone to become a golem who wasn't willing. I may have had a lot of death on my hands but even I drew a line somewhere.

"I asked. As I always do." I turned to Zara, wanting to know what he thinks of Jalrik's accusation. The leg directly behind me was unnerving, I hadn't noticed him move closer and I stumbled away. He reached out quicker than I could move and the hand on my shoulder was tight, twisting me back around to face the Commander and I held up the arm not trapped against my side. He knew what Jalrik was going to say. Knew and was ready to block my escape. "Jal, I swear on the Stone, I asked them!"

The tableau held for a long moment before the grip is loosened and I knew that I would be bruised come morning. Just a touch harder and Zaranaad would've broken my shoulder and several ribs.

"Then why would they say they had no choice and were forced?" He's confused. He wasn't the only one.

I just shook my head, massaging my shoulder with a grimace. "I want to talk to them."

There's another exchange of glances I couldn't decipher above my head before Zara stepped out, the heavy door being firmly shut behind him. The fact that it's not locked any more helps, even if I rationally knew that I'd not even make it halfway there before Jalrik could catch me. Had I really been so distant that I hadn't noticed the Legion conspiring around me? What else had I missed? I felt like I was being set up. The newcomers would testify against me and Jalrik would believe them over me because they're golems and no matter how much they may call me their creator I was still only flesh and blood.

Was I being paranoid? Would they really turn against me?

The door opened again and I back away. I suddenly felt small around them in a way I never had before. The three new golems, two plain steel and the other in what I thought was a particularly nice mix of plain and red steel nod to Jalrik. The lack of greeting to me was noticeable now I was paying attention.

"You have said." Jalrik began, shifting his weight in a motion I recognise from his fighting, he was ready to move in any direction with the barest hint of a warning. "You were forced into becoming golems."

They remained silent. They didn't want to be here. They don't want to answer that. Which was unusual, I expected them to immediately implicate me in some heinous plot.

"We can't." It's the red banded one - I couldn't remember his name right now, which just showed how far I'd let myself slip - that answers. His face turned slightly towards me in a minute gesture he likely thought I wouldn't pick up on. It's not that they were unable to answer. It's that they couldn't, or wouldn't, do so in front of me.

"Why?" My voice overlapped with Jalrik's and he pressed a finger against my chest, a request for me to remain silent and out of the way. The silence stretched, my breathing the only thing I could hear. I let them think, wishing there was a chair in there, I wasn't made to stay so still for so long.

"Valtor." No honorific. No respect. The King's name was spat out like he was something crawled up from the deep.

"The King?" Jalrik hummed thoughtfully, one hand tapping against his thigh. "He was holding something over you. Something you feared more than becoming a golem."

All three seem startled and I couldn't help the smile that quirked one corner of my lips. Jalrik wasn't the commander for no reason.

And Zaranaad wasn't his second and best strategist without being equally quick to reach the same conclusion. "How many more are being forced? How many are going into the other Legions and squads without being asked if they are sure?"

I had a feeling that I've just gone another shade paler. "I only transfer the Steel Legion nowadays. My apprentices do all of the other transfers. I just leave them to it."

Red seemed to come to a decision. "You did ask. We were told that should you ever find out that we weren't willing, our families would be killed."

Zaranaad made a sound akin to nails down slate and while unpleasant, it certainly worked as an expression of his anger. My own hiss was a pitiful thing in comparison. "I need to talk to Valtor."

"You really think that's wise?" Jalrik asked.

"Maybe. Maybe not. I somehow doubt he'll want to lose his best golem creator." I gave them a wry smile, "besides, if he tries to lock me up you can all come fetch me."

"Let me state, for the record: I think this is a fucking terrible plan salroka."

"Your vote of confidence is noted Zar." I said dryly and he made a metallic sound of indignation.

"At least let some of us come with you." Jalrik said.

"Of course." Not taking them hadn't even crossed my mind. "We'll start to head back to Orzammar tomorrow, tell him I don't appreciate coerced volunteers."

=====

Heads barely turned as we enter Orzammar, such a change from that first time, now the presence of two Golems was hardly worth noticing. Indeed I was getting more attention than they were.

"Hold up." Jalrik said as we turned into a stairway with what sounded like laughter. I joined in when I stopped to look. There was a child, barely past three or four years at a guess climbing on Zaranaad's foot. The Lieutenant had come to a stop and was staring down at the little interloper.

"Help?" The once casteless dwarf implored in a carrying whisper. He was frozen in place, his entire frame a solid statue. "Stop sodding laughing and help me out salroka! He'll go right down the stairs if he falls off."

"Me? What do I know of children?" I asked as I took a step back, conveniently behind a leg that blocked me from sight.

"Honestly." Jalrik muttered and crouched down. The child's eyes widened and he scrambled off Zaranaad and onto the offered hand, a squeal of delight echoed in the confined area when he was hoisted into the air. "Hello little one." He said and the child stare.

"You speak!" Did the child miss the conversation as he had run up to us? This is why I didn't deal with children, they made no sense. Small pudgy fingers reached out and I winced when they landed on Jalrik's face, patting at the plating as he frowned at the scar. "You got an ouchie."

"It was a long time ago little one." Jalrik said.

The child seemed to consider this before nodding happily and squirming in his arms. "You've got a brand." He said turning his attention to Zaranaad who raised a hand to the copper inlay marking out the casteless brand on one of his cheekplates.

"So I have salroka."

The child looked confused. "Father said brands never amount to anything." He looked down at me, a frown on his small face. "He also says golems will be the saviours of the dwarven empire."

Zaranaad nodded and I took a half step forwards from behind his leg, carefully watching how his fists were clenched. Yet his voice was perfectly even when he spoke, none of his annoyance showing through in his tone. "That's why I became a golem, so I could help save the empire."

"That's very brave." The child said after a moment of contemplation. Jalrik started to put him down and he had to grasp for the fingers that were almost as big as his arm till his feet were back on the floor and he dashed off.

Well, that was new, I'd never been accosted by a child before, made a nice change to the usual puffed up Noble that wanted their own personal golem and; "can't I just make them one, the King doesn't have to know..." As if I was going to give a Noble House that sort of an advantage over the rest.

"Was that wise, talking to him?" I asked once the child is out of range and we were once again alone on the staircase.

Jalrik shrugged one shoulder. "Children say lots of fanciful things."

"You know, I feel so justified now." Zaranaad grumbled as he rubbed a finger over his brand.

Jalrik shrugged, "you wanted the engraving."

"It's a reminder to all the sodding deep lords that us dusters can become something fucking worthwhile."

"I'm one of those deep lords." Jalrik pointed out.

"Pah, you don't sodding count. You spent too much time with the Dead Legion when you were alive."

"Legion of the Dead."

"S'what I fucking said."

"I'm one of those deep lords." I said with a smile.

Zaranaad huffed. "You don't count either."

"Are we going the wrong way?" Jalrik said when I headed past the route to the upper levels, his attention finally pulled away from Zaranaads baiting. I usually ignored the insults passing over my head with an ease of long practise. They'd been like that since they were introduced. Best working partnership I'd ever seen, yet off the battlefield it wasn't unusual to find them throwing punches at each other. If they were still flesh I'd think they needed to go find a private chamber and work it out that way. Most dwarves seemed to be able to deal with things by doing that.

"I'm going to quickly visit my father." I replied as we made the turn for the lower levels. "Uncle Ortan's last communication said he'd moved to my old forge."

======

"Father?" I paused at the doorway of the small forge. It almost looks like I remember, before I managed to blow it up. My father still jumped even with the noise we made as we approached. I could see see him twitch towards me before his training kicked in and he pulled everything off the heat and set his tools down before he moved towards me.

"Caridin, son. It's been far too long." He said as I was gathered into a hug.

"I've been busy." I wrap my own arms round him. "The war, you know."

He chuckled. "I know, I know." He kept his hands on my shoulders as he got a good look at me. "I don't like it, but I understand." He glanced over my shoulder before laughing. "Do tell your golem it can't fit in. I don't need to be having the roof repaired again."

I shook my head. "You'll have to wait outside."

Zaranaad grumbled and pulled himself out of the doorway. He looked like a deepstalker trying to wiggle through a small hole for a treat. There was no audible reply, not that I expected one with them acting their part of mindless automatons. 

"Sorry."

"No worries. So, what brought you down here?"

"Am I not allowed to visit?" I said, softening the question with a smile and he chuckled.

"What are you avoiding?"

My father knew me far too well at times.

He was still a push over. He didn't even try to get me to leave despite me telling him I was paying Valtor a visit.

=====

The King's residence was on one of the higher walkways of the Diamond Quarter, one where Golems are not meant to tread. The guard however had been deeply unwilling to argue with Jalrik and Zaranaad. Especially once their weapons had a small accident. Seems golems could be so clumsy sometimes, dropping weapons they'd appropriated and then standing on them. Eh, they weren't heirlooms or anything fancy, just standard guard stock, I'd reimburse them later.

I smiled at Valtor's Second. Not a dwarf I recognised. I swear the King went through seconds quicker than a deepstalker pack through a herd of nugs. My grin was all teeth and forced politeness. "Are you going to let us in?"

He hesitated. "They can't come in."

"I assure you they can, it's quite easy, they step through the door just like we do." Valtor even had large oversized doorways so they would indeed fit. They were built long before golems were even conceived; to show how important the family was that they could afford to have such huge gilt and gem covered monstrosities instead of a simple entranceway, yet they were perfectly sized to allow my creations through.

The second took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and I had to stop the laughter bubbling up in my throat. "They are not allowed in." He rephrased his statement.

"That's fine. We'll wait here. Be a good Second and send the King out to us." I leant back, resting against Jalrik's leg as he did a good guardian impression. The Second gaped at us, disbelief at my audacity flitting across his features. "Make sure to tell him Paragon Caridin doesn't appreciate being kept waiting."

"The King forgets what rank the Assembly bestowed on you." Jalrik rumbled quietly once the affronted Second had stalked off.

I shrugged. "I don't use it often." I'd never needed to use it all that much. Darkspawn don't really care about ones caste while they're tearing you apart. Nor do the members of the Legion of the Dead care about my rank. Only when we cross still occupied Thaigs did I tend to remember what I was, and that only because of the awed whispers and greetings that would follow me.

"He says you can come in."

I gave the Second a smug smile. "Thank you." I was counting on the fact that Valtor would never demean himself to be seen meeting me on his front doorstep to get us all in.

"Caridin." The King's voice was flat, unamused and I could feel my own smile widen momentarily.

"Valtor." I replied, watching the annoyance when I didn't use his title. Unlike me, he did enjoy being known as one of the most powerful dwarves around.

"So, what is so important that you have to break laws to come and speak to me?"

"You've not been entirely truthful with me." I said, settling myself on a stone bench. I wasn't worried about feeling lower than him, not with Jalrik and Zaranaad towering over us both.

"Oh. Do enlighten me?" He said, a look of polite confusion on his face. As if he didn't know exactly what he's done.

"What part of 'only those that are willing' is so hard to interpret?" I snapped out. It was a conscious effort to keep my hands from reaching to the empty space that normally housed my hammer. I may have been rude enough to bring my golems but I did disarm myself as was civil protocol for entering another Houses estate.

"Ah." A long sound of understanding as he too took a seat, sitting forwards as if by strength of his presence alone he could impress upon me the severity of his words. The title I may have had, but a Deshyr I was not. Not once had I ever used my vote, I had more important things to do, as appointed by the Ancestors themselves than bicker and squabble over trivial matters. I didn't have time for politics. "There aren't enough Caridin. Surely you must see that."

I nodded once. Of course I could see that, I brought that problem to him in the first place. Clearly he's forgotten that small fact. "That still does not excuse..."

"Criminals." He interrupted. "I've been sending you those who have broken our laws. Their lives would have been forfeit anyway, better they spent them being of use to the empire."

"I'm sure some would have chosen to become golems." I agreed rather affably before crossing my arms. "Others however, did not."

He raised a hand. "Very well, I will revisit the issue with the Assembly. See if we can find any other solution that won't offend your sensibilities."

I could sense I wouldn't get much more out of him. "I'll be mnaking sure anyone coming in is asked very clearly until you work out a new solution."

Neither of us offered any pleasantries as I abruptly got up and turned to leave. The silence remained as the doors swung shut behind us and the thump of feet the only sound between us until we started the trek down from the higher level. I held a hand up, cutting off whoever was about to speak. "Not here." We continued to walk in silence until we were back in the deep roads, well away from any prying ears.

"Fucking nug humping deep lords." Zaranaad muttered as soon as I glanced up at them both. "You hear what he didn't sodding say?"

"Aye." I said with a frown. "He'll revisit the issue." That could mean so many different things, and only a few options were the ones we wanted.

"Least in dust town we give straight answers, none of this fucking nugshite with words that can mean twenty things." Zaranaad said.

"We'll just have to keep an eye on it Zar, what else can we do?" I asked.

"We could assign someone to remain around the anvil, keep an eye on it while you're not there." Jalrik suggested. A thoughtful hum filled the corridor in between the thump of feet as I thought that through.

"Astin perhaps. They're already used to him doing the inventory and shifting materials." I suggested. He much prefered that to fighting, asking him to do a little spying for me shouldn't be too hard.

"That could work." Jalrik said.

"He could let us know if any of your apprentices are ignoring your orders or if it's all above them." Zaranaad added.

I frowned. I hadn't even thought of that. What if some of the apprentices are actually complicit? I couldn't just dismiss them. Some of them are actually fully ranked Smiths now despite me still referring to them as apprentices. They might not know how to modify the runes themsel;ves but they can make basic stone golems by following premade rune layouts. "We'd have to kill them if they are." I said slowly. It would be the only way.

"Aye." Jalrik said. "Some of them are from powerful families." That's a very good point, some of those families would be well placed to disrupt my own supply chain which I relied upon for getting my materials.

"I'm sure a terrible explosion in the forge wouldn't care about rank." Zaranaad said.

I felt a smile stretch across my face. "Sometimes it's always the easy solutions." I said with a pat on Zaranaad's leg. "If any are complicit, we just get them in the right place and I can ensure they won't be leaving."


	14. Of Blood

There was nothing to suggest the day would be any different. Perhaps that is what makes me so bitter about the events that followed. I was outsmarted in a way I didn't see coming. And in hindsight, I should have guessed he'd do something like this.

"Morning Master." I nodded absently back at one of my apprentices as I entered the forge and made my way towards the anvil by memory alone, my eyes not lifting from the page I was reading. I'd been putting the final touches to my next experimental frame that I intended to finish today, plus there's a couple of stone frames created by my apprentices to inspect. The tremble in the ground of heavy feet made me glance up when it becomes obvious the golem is heading my direction.

"Morning Astin." He didn't reply, again not that unusual, he's often quiet around the apprentices, careful to not let them think him more than just a slightly more successful experiment that could operate under slightly more open orders.

The hand that knocked me off my feet I didn't even see coming, my eyes back on the sheaf of papers I was looking through. I coughed, air knocked out of me. I didn't have time to move, to protest before his hand slammed down. A move I'd seen used on darkspawn more times than I count count They never survive for long if the strike didn't kill them outright.

I did. For a long moment I wished I hadn't as everything seemed to hurt. I couldn't even scream. His hand was still resting on top of me, not that I could move even if it wasn't, most of my limbs didn't seem to want to obey my command any more, and trying just created more pain. One of my hands twitched, and I clasped the nearest finger as best I could.

Why?" I coughed, feeling ribs scrape together.

"I'm sorry, so sorry lad." He didn't move his hand though, keeping me pressed down, gasping for breath. "He's got my control rod."

A cold chill more terrible than the heat of broken bones passed through me.

He?

"Take him to the anvil golem."

No.

The shift of broken bones dimmed my vision as Astin scooped me up, dutifully following Valtor's direction. I didn't have the breath to protest as I was laid out. Besides what good would it do? Astin can't fight the control rod, we tested that, long ago and I regret ever adding it in now. For his sake as well as mine.

The lighter steps indicate the King's approach as Astin stepped back. "Valtor." It didn't come out quite right but he seemed to understand well enough as he stared down at me. "Why?" Of all the dwarves, why me when I am the one that can produce more golems for him.

"I am the King. You would have done well to remember that." He smiled, a vicious thing. "Your apprentices know this work, they don't need you."

I laughed, tasting blood on my lips. They didn't even know half of what I did. They could make a frame and transfer, but they copy runes I'd written out for them. Not one had shown the innate knowledge needed to modify the runes without failing.

He reached a hand into the frame, gently patting me on one shoulder "You'll be more tractable soon. Somehow I doubt anyone will argue with my decrees with you at my side."

He moved out of my vision and then darkness descended as the faceplate is lowered, only the eye holes and mouth remaining as a source of light. A source I couldn't look at for I didn't want to see... I could only press my eyes closed.

And wait.

Lyrium sung, close, so close. Burnt for a moment that lasted no time at all and that stretched out towards eternity. Its song rose, a crescendo, a harmony I'd never heard before, so intimate. I could think of nothing but the lyrium as it filled my mind. Then it stopped. Cut off. I was left bereft. My chest no longer hurt. Not as it did before.

Which before?

It ached, like the time I had to recover from a rather inconsiderate ogre trying to squash me, the ache of magically healed ribs had stayed for days.

My limbs wouldn't move either. That was... concerning. They were injured too?

I think they were? My memories are scattered.

I remembered pain. Yet now I seemed to be adrift. Is this what dying should feel like?

Sharp pain at my shoulder made me twist with a whimper. I barely move and the sharp stabbing continued, as if somebody was digging a needle into my flesh. I felt like the haze was clearing from my mind, slowly shifting with every stab of pain assaulting my limbs. Maybe it was a new type of healing potion? 

Voices around me are next to return, echoing as if from down a long tunnel; and vision, though it remained in shades of grey and blue as I stared at a rocky ceiling that should be a warm red brown.

What is going on? 

"Well?" That voice. Fear shot through me. I knew that voice. It. He. Valtor. Traitor.

"All done. We just need to link the control rod up."

You can't. I tried to speak, to tell them that, yet the words didn't work correctly, getting caught somewhere between my brain and my mouth. Besides, why was I so sure they couldn't link a control rod? There's the sound of hammering as I pondered. Something about them using a frame without a control rod. Armour made for one of my Steel Legion.

They. Me. Shit. Shit. Shit!

"Caridin, stand up." The command was echoed in my mind, or what now passes as my mind I suppose. There was no compulsion to follow the order, exactly how every one of them had described it. Better though that Valtor thought I was under his control. I was in no condition to fight my way free just now. Not when even sitting up was harder than expected.

I thought that it would feel cumbersome and unwieldy, instead I felt... right. I know I was heavy but I felt light, every movement easy, almost too easy as sitting up nearly toppled me over the side of the anvil and onto the floor. That was why I started warning my Legion to take it slowly when they first moved, only took a couple of them nearly landing on me from aborted attempts to get up too fast to learn that it was for the best.

I felt the movement of the floor as I stand, feet thudding onto the stone, the vibrations echoing back to me. No wonder I could never sneak up on the golems, they could likely feel a deepstalker hunting.

I let my gaze cross the forge, taking in the bodies. When did that happen? Were they ones who protested against the King's plan? For surely somebody must have protested. Maybe the rest were forced to help him or they would have ended up dead too. I cannot fault them for that.

"Excellent." I could see the way his fingers tightened around the control rod, how his smile grew and I itched to wipe it off his face. "Go stand by the door and wait." I strode off, settling on the other side of the door to Astin who didn't even twitch. It's strange to see the old miner so still. I couldn't remember the last time I actually gave him an order. He'd been serving me for so long that I almost forgot he had a control rod.

"The forge is yours now." Valtor said. My fists clenched as I forced myself not to move like I wished to. The forge isn't his to give away, it was mine. "As you're his closest living relative who's been working with him you will of course be named as head of the house."

The smile is wide, smug. "Thank you, my King. I will have no reservations about furthering the war effort."

So that's how it is. 

I knew that voice. How long has my own cousin been plotting against me? He told me once we should have been switched. he never wanted to be a smith, but his father hadn't landed a Noble woman like mine. Was this his way of changing that. If I'd known he hated being a smith that much I'd have adopted him into House Caridin, all he would have had to do was ask.

Instead he's a kinslayer. My forge and title in exchange for helping Valtor remove me. And all he has to do now is keep making more golems. More deaths for people who don't want to make that last sacrifice, yet will not be given a choice about it. And if I was reading it correctly, a convenient way for Valtor to keep control and retain his throne. Part of me wished to deal with them right away, stop their plotting, yet the stumble as I moved, the faint disconnection I'm still feeling no matter how right this new body is, told me to wait.

They parted with smiles, the sort that all the Deshyr's master, the one that really means: 'look how polite I'm being right now as we see this deal through but really I'd just love to run you through'. My cousin gesturing at the few apprentices who were obviously in on the plot to get back to work and clean the forge.

"Follow me."

Astin followed without a word or pause and I dutifully clomp out after him, using the time to try and get a little more comfortable in my frame. The movement itself wasn't that bad, just the different senses that were distracting. There was no comparison between how hearing seems to work. Words in the air were quieter, footsteps muffled to what my dwarf mind would consider hearing. Yet my new form could pick out our footsteps just from the reverberations in the stone. My vision was in shades of grey, colour washed out, yet I could almost see heat, like an aura around everything.

And lyrium. It's a gaping hole in my mind. I couldn't find it anywhere. I know it's all around, in the walls, the floor, in myself. I could see it glowing a blue/white in veins in the stone. It was silent. Occasionally I thought I could feel Astin, yet it was a fleeting feeling. I couldn't accept it as anything but my imagination. 

We didn't travel for long before we met up with another group of stone golems and a group of warriors I must assume were the King's guard. They fell in round us, none of them sparing a glance for the second golem the King has returned with, after all, golems weren't unusual any more and who is going to question the King bringing a golem out of Caridin's forge where they were made.

I held myself together till we stopped for the evening, following the suggestions I am being given by the King. Mostly just variants of follow me, attack any darkspawn you see and stay in place. The Thaig we stopped in to rest was still occupied and they were quick to give Valtor a suite of rooms they were big enough to allow golems in and he set us up inside the doors like huge guardians.

The suggestion he gave says just that; guard the door from anyone coming in and protect him. I stay for long enough that he's starting to relax as he sits by the fire, the book he found somewhere carefully placed on the low table as his eyes slid shut.

I stepped forwards, golems are surprisingly fast for all their bulk, and he barely had time to recognise the shaking thump of steps before I'd swept him off the couch and into a wall. He went limp as I darted forwards, grabbing the control rods he's carrying with as much care as I could. They were tiny in my hands. Mine I tossed into the fire. Not that it would melt down at that temperature, it just made me feel better.

There was no chance to do anything else before an arm wrapped round me, yanking me backwards, away from Valtor and nearly off my feet. I growled, ramming my elbow backwards. The weight at my neck vanishes so I turned, already ducking into a sweeping motion that took Astin's legs out from underneath him. He hit the floor with a clatter and I threw myself on top of him, my slightly larger and heavier frame doing what my inexperience could not and pinning him to the floor. He went limp beneath me and I eased up a little, letting him raise his head off the floor.

"Sorry lad." He muttered, and I could hear the growling frustration in his voice; the deeper harmonics I couldn't have picked up with my dwarven hearing were so clear now. "You heard his orders."

"I've got the control rod." I said, holding it carefully between finger and thumb.

"And what are you going to do with it?" He asked. "You break it I'll be locked into my last order. You can't use it. And giving it to anyone else here?..." 

I couldn't use it. I. Fuck. I'd forgotten that. I didn't know how I didn't even think about it. A control rod cannot be used by another golem. I wrote that fail-safe into them myself. And he's right, any of the non golems here would side with the king.

"We can find someone." I started, surely there must be more dwarves nearby who would give the same order I did, that Astin is free to do as he wishes.

"Not soon enough." He said. I caught the bitter undertone and wince. "Go lad, leave me and go."

"Astin, I can't just leave you."

"And what will Valtor do when he wakes? You've just tipped your hand that you're not under his control. As long as you're not doing any further harm to him I won't stop you moving round, not even to leave."

I growled, frustrated that he's right.

"Lad. Go."

I rolled off him in one movement, dropping the control rod into a corner and walking out. I tried to look like I'm under orders. It seemed to work as no one stops me, the soldiers just stepping aside to let me through. It's almost anti-climatic as I strode away until the Thaig wasn't even visible any more. I had a visit to make with my cousin. After that... I'd decide that later.

=====

Never, in all my years had I been particularly vindictive. A lacking trait for a noble to be sure. Yet now I found it was there in full force. Heads turned as I entered the forge, none of them too bothered by my entry. Why would they be, I'm under the King's control as far as they are concerned.

The first one didn't even have time to scream, his short attempt at flight stopped abruptly by the cavern wall. The rest scattered and I was forced to chase them down. Only one offers any real resistance and the forge hammer that clanged into my knuckles was a barely felt annoyance before I tossed him into one of the lava pools.

"Going somewhere cousin?" I asked and the quiet footsteps I could feel trying to creep towards the door behind me faltered for a moment before he fled, stealth given up for speed. It didn't help him. I was simply bigger and faster now. His startled scream as I scooped him up made me laugh.

"Fuck it, Valtor promised us..." My hand tightened and he stopped talking, face contorting into a silent scream.

"Valtor is as much a fool as you are." I rumbled, releasing the pressure and letting him drop to the floor. I leant down, letting both my hands land aside of him with a smack that echoed round the chamber, "let me tell you as secret." He flinched as I get even closer. "Except for Astin, none of the Steel Legion have control rods."

He stared at me, wide eyed. His breathing was ragged, broken. He was likely going into shock. Not a nice way to die, choking on your own blood around broken ribs, unable to move to help yourself with broken arms. Strange thing is, having nearly died like that I couldn't find it within myself to put him out of his misery.

I stood back up, looking round the room. At what had been a haven for me. No longer. I ran my hand across the surface of the anvil, tilting my head when my fingers didn't move quite right. Repairing ones own hand was an interesting thing. For one, there was no pain where I was expecting there to be. Just a dull ache and a faint warmth where I was working. While that would be fascinating normally, I was more curious about the fact that I wasn't feeling any less angry about what has happened than I was earlier. Every one has said emotions dull. The stone don't even remember them to begin with. My Steel Legion knew them in some form but it was not the overwhelming rage that I was currently seething with.

The metal of my hand glinted in the light from my forge and I tilted it, watching the light play across it. Volcanic aurum. One of the most magically resonant metals we know of. It took me all these years to gather enough to be made into a frame and now, I feared it was an experiment that has failed.

Not for actually working. It's worked perfectly. And that therein was the problem. It's worked perfectly, preserving everything I am now and everything I no longer am. I remembered the feel of flesh, remembered it enough to miss it. None of them missed what they no longer had. Their last lives an echo of memories, the sensations that went with those memories dulled and somehow inconsequential.

I flexed my fingers, setting the hammer aside when the small plates slide across one another exactly as they should. Such fine artistry, each one a masterwork in itself. Fitting I suppose that this would be my new form. My finest work would always be mine.

I wish I could go back. I wish... No. Wishing is for the children in Orzammar who hadn't seen the realities that await them outside the city bounds. I cannot go back. There are more ways of controlling a golem that remembers who and what it is than with a control rod. I wouldn't give Valtor the satisfaction of confirming that I was more than what he must now suspect. I will not get within his grasp again. I can well imagine what it would come down to. How long before he would realise that to control me he must only control those around me. It was why I came back here. With an anvil that no longer sings to me, it's only voice now the memory of burning fire and pain. Valtor would not stop. I was too blinded by my thought that his honour was my honour. I had done many things for our Empire. Many things that would have driven one with a lesser will mad. Never though, had I forced any into this. That is the line I would not cross. I was taking the anvil. I did not know where yet, only that it must not be found by Valtor, nor by those that followed him. I tossed the notes about the process that were easily to hand into the lava, the rest I'd have to leave, there shouldn't be enough there for anyone to recreate the process.

The anvil itself shifts easily beneath my hands once I removed it from its base, what was once an unmoving block now a mere obstacle that I could move. Though I could see why my Legion took turns carrying it. The weight was not too much of a problem, it was however incredibly unwieldy.

"Caridin." I tilted my head, putting the anvil down for a moment as I look at my cousin "You can't leave me like this." The words were quiet, his face contorted with pain and still I felt nothing. He betrayed me. I pick the anvil back up, starting for the door. "Caridin!" I didn't even acknowledge him. "Please?" Why should I help him. He never headed my plea for help.

There was a faint buzz of familiarity that I could feel as the anvil pressed against my chest as I walked a reassuring remnant of the song that I could normally hear. My steps echoed hollowly down the empty roads. None had stopped me as I left Bownammer with it, why would they? Smith Caridin often had the golems hauling his anvils around. Although surely they must have been imagining that moving the master anvil, the one that can create the golems was a new development. They wave me out with a farewell, after all, I knew all the passwords and I knew my way around. I must be one of the Steel Legion. What else could I be?

I walked on down the hallways, past places the Legion had claimed against the darkspawn, each camp familiar as I recalled fighting at each point, pushing back the darkspawn with every encounter. I had hoped to see the rest of my Legion, yet with each abandoned camp I pass I was getting the feeling they wouldn't be at the next. It was too quiet.

Eventually there was nowhere left to go but into uncharted territory and that I couldn't do. I wasn't a warrior. There was a dead end cavern nearby, I remember camping there while the Legion secured the nearby roads. And running through one side of it was a lava pool that would work well as a new forge. It's not perfect right now but with a little work I could make it more defensible. Make it more like home.

I put the anvil to one side, I'd deal with properly fixing it in place later. If I was to be making this be my last forge then I didn't intend to let even another golem shift it. Hiding it wouldn't do much good if another golem was simply commanded to carry it back to Orzammar.


	15. Of Beginnings

The vibration of the stone was my first indication of visitors and I tensed, locking my joints so not a rattle of armour would give me away. Darkspawn don't tend to make the ground tremble, not even ogres rattle the rocks unless they ram into the walls, which they can be prone to doing. They really aren't the smartest of beasts. So I was left to wonder what new horror they'd dragged up from the deep. It was enough of a warning that I could put my forge tools down as silently as possible and creep towards the entrance; I'd be out of view on one side and ready to defend my home without putting myself out in the entranceway as a big target.

"Fresh tracks." The voice was faint and I tilted my head, the rumble familiar in a way I couldn't quite place. Not darkspawn. I knew that much for certain. They don't speak in any language I've ever heard.

"Darkspawn?" Another asked and again I should know it but don't. And I should think there's no fresh darkspawn tracks round here. I kept the place clean of the wretched creatures.

"No, golem." There's surprise in the first voice as they replied.

"Interesting, I guess we get to see who's here then." A third chimed in.

I knew that voice. I thought...

They were gone. I thought they were dead!

I grasped at the wall, feeling stone crack beneath my fingers. Then there was rock beneath beneath my knees, yet I don't remember hitting the floor. I don't remember them entering, surrounding me until there's too many of them, too close. Steel frames everywhere until one dropped to a knee before me, a hand reaching out to tilt my head upwards.

"Who..." Silverite, marred by a scar, a visage I'd remember no matter what happened to me.

He trailed off and I just shook my head. I couldn't answer, my words weren't working. If I was still flesh I'd be crying, but golems can't cry.

"No. He didn't." There's something in his voice, a dark echo that reminded me I wasn't alone, I wasn't the only golem that still feels.

I reached a hand out, letting my fingers trace over his scar. "Jalrik." I whispered, and he took my other hand in his. He was warm. In a strange sort of way. Not like fire but an energy. A resonance.

"Caridin?"

"Aye." A single word had never felt so vulnerable as it fell into an almost complete silence. My Legion. My best and brightest all staring with unflinching gazes. Yet there's more there than I could ever sense before. Anger burning brightly behind so many eyes and none aimed at me. I could feel it. Sense it. Like being in the dark and finding light again. It was a sense I didn't even know I had. The lyrium calling to its own and I could feel them. I thought I'd been cut off from the lyrium, left adrift. The only thing I'd been able to sense since I was transferred was my anvil, and that's barely a hum. Then again, perhaps I was feeling Astin, back when I was first transferred, maybe it wasn't my imagination. It was just too soon after, all of my legion said it took days to fully settle into their new frames.

"Valtor told us you were dead. That he'd seen your body himself." Jalrik said, drawing my attention back to him.

I laughed, the sound harsh and grating. "Oh aye, he saw my body." I clutched at his frame, wishing I was still small again, that I could be picked up and hauled around. I wanted to feel the distorted hum of lyrium and feel the warmth of living metal under my hands that my old self could feel.

"If he wasn't long in the Stone I'd go back and crush him myself." Jalrik said, his voice a deep rumble in my ear. It was soothing, so many harmonics that I couldn't hear before, so many layers that a flesh and blood body couldn't understand.

"Get in fucking line." Zara. Still the same irreverent bastard. I reached out in the direction of his voice and another hand curled into mine and then there's another body behind me. Warm and solid and there. I dropped my head, letting it rest on Jalrik's chest.

I wished golems could cry.

"If we'd known you were here we'd have come sooner." Jalrik said when I finally looked up, realising most of the Legion have vanished. I hadn't felt them leave. I already felt safer, knowing they're out there protecting the road I'd been valiantly keeping free of darkspawn on my own. "We've been following Orzammar's commands."

"You didn't think to just leave?" I asked rather incredulously. Why stay?

"Why would we leave? Wasn't any reason to." Zaranaad said. "You were... gone. We had nobody to repair us if we went out alone."

"I suppose." I never did find any other Smiths I would be willing to transfer into a steel frame. I guess that would make me the only one able to play healer.

"Didn't really have much else to do and we all decided keeping our free will a secret was best." Jalrik added as he stood up, hauling me up with him.

"So why now?" I asked, looking round my forge, not much different from when I first arrived. Without needing to sleep or eat any more, I had no idea how long it's been.

"Valtor died a few years back, Getha took the throne and sent us out to find the anvil." Jalrik said.

That long, and yet, so little time. Getha was still a child last I saw her. I couldn't imagine her as a Queen, just as the child that somehow never forgot her Uncle Caridin, no matter how long I stayed away from Orzammar. I wanted to go back, let her know... And how many others were there? Father. Uncle Ortan. Sharis and Rico. So many who I knew and didn't know their fates. How many of them were dead by that point?

"I'm not returning." I can't. I won't be silenced again. I dare not trust to the integrity of the Assembly. We would be a threat they couldn't leave alone. I even more so. I am a Paragon. My words would carry more weight than theirs and if they had known that now I will live far longer, surviving where they cannot; they wouldn't accept that. And how does one silence a Golem beyond killing us?

"You won't?" Zaranaad asked as he inspected the welding at the base of my anvil. He doesn't sound surprised. Just curious.

"The Assembly didn't dare give golems to individual houses, do you really think they'd let a full house of Golems wander free?" My reply made him laugh. The grating sound is a lot different now, so many more tones layered in the plain harsher sound that my dwarven ears could pick up.

"No." He trotted back over. "We'd be chased out as I know you'd never raise your hand against Orzammar."

"Not against Orzammar I wouldn't. Against the Assembly though..." I said. I know the lower castes don't have a say in the orders they are given. I cannot blame them for doing what they would have to if they wanted to survive. I couldn't blame the warriors trying to kill me for doing their job. of course I'd leave instead.

"Guess I'm staying here then Salroka." Zaranaad said, reaching out to pat me on the shoulder. The hum of lyrium peaked with each touch. It was a nice thought, but not entirely up to him. I turned to Jalrik. He's the Commander.

"We're with you." Jalrik said. "The Legion is yours."


End file.
